


Tour

by MKZ4345



Series: Killjoys [5]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Cheating, Concerts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Suspense, cliffhanger ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKZ4345/pseuds/MKZ4345
Summary: A concert tour through the zones with the famous band the Mad Gear and Missile Kid. The Killjoys are asked to act as security, as something strange is happening in the city... Plus, there is untold history between Kobra Kid and Missile Kid, also known as Purple Mania... On top of that, their stage hand and pyro expert Whiskey Tango Foxtrot seems quite flirty with one of the Killjoys... Will they be able to handle the stress they're put under? Will this author ever get better at writing summaries? The only way to find out is to read.(NOT TAGGED: mentions of past Korse/Poison; Poison/Tango because that character doesn't exist on AO3 lol)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Killjoys [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1266755
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	Tour

**Author's Note:**

> There is no way to prepare you for this fic. I wrote it over the course of more than a year. So much has happened since I started this fic, but I honestly think it's not bad. Tell me if it's good, please. I beg you to overlook things like typos and stuff, since this monster had to be formatted slowly over a long time, I probably missed some stuff.  
> All that said, pls enjoy! Sorry if it takes you literal days to read this!!  
> *As a final note to avoid confusion, Soul Punk is Patrick Stump, Purple Mania is Pete Wentz, and Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is Bert McCracken (courtesy of virtuevalentine on instagram! Check out their page for their awesome design for WTF!).

The conversation with the rest of the Killjoys went just about how Kobra thought it would. He told them the Mad Gear and Missile Kid needed security for their next tour and they all lost their minds barely after he got the words out. They’d been listening to their music since before Poison and Ghoul had even been Killjoys. Poison had gotten their music in the underground music scene of the city, Ghoul had been to many of their inner city shows, Jet had collected all of their EPs through trading in the Zones, and Kobra… Well, he let it slip to them that he used to be their bassist.

“What?!” Poison shouted, choking on his cereal.

“You were a part of the band?!” Ghoul gawked, absently patting Poison’s back as he coughed.

“I- I was a part of the backup band,” Kobra stuttered. “I was a glorified groupie who got to play bass on stage behind them.” 

“Still!” Jet had his hands in his hair. “That’s so crazy, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I-I don’t know…” Kobra tucked his hands under his arms, trying not to lose his cool. “It never came up?”

“We’ve listened to them hundreds of times in the car!” Poison croaked, still coughing up cereal. “How does that not count as it ‘coming up?!’”

“I don’t know!” Kobra ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know, okay?! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I used to be a part of the Zones’ most legendary band, maybe I didn’t want that sort of image! As the guy who left the Zones’ most legendary band!”

The room was silent, all eyes were on Kobra, and he was fucking done being the center of attention.

“So?!” Kobra said loudly, clearing his throat. “Are you guys in?”

“I mean- is it going to be weird for you?” Poison asked, finally able to speak normally again.

“It’s whatever for me.”

“No,” Ghoul interjected. “It’s not ‘whatever,’ you have a history with these guys and you left for a reason.”

“A reason I don’t plan on telling you,” Kobra said flatly.

Poison and Ghoul shared a look.

“Okay, fine,” Jet said, standing up. “I’m in. I have a chance to meet my favorite band and you clearly aren’t bothered by past events enough to say no outright, so I’m in.”

“I figured.” Kobra nodded. “Anyone else?”

“… I vote no,” Poison said. “If this is a vote, I vote no. You clearly don’t want to do this but you’re doing that thing you do when you don’t want to do something which is to do it anyway.”

“… If it’s a vote, I vote yes,” Ghoul said quietly. Poison glared at him. “Whatever happened, I think you should work it out with them. Plus, we get to tour the zones and do some good ground work. Extra plus, the zones could use more positive things like concerts. I’m in, too.”

“That’s that, then,” Kobra said quickly, seeing Poison open his mouth to protest. “We have to meet them at the Zone 2 outpost to talk with them about it.”  
And so, the Killjoys finished their breakfast. Kobra had taken the night to think it over himself before even telling them about the letter. He figured it would be better to sleep on it instead of dropping it on them that night after all the drama before. 

One thing Kobra was worried about off the bat was whether the Mad Gear and Missile Kid were even still at the outpost. Letters didn’t travel very fast in the zones, it was a miracle if you ever got one to the right person. Though, Kobra reasoned, if you were asked to deliver a letter by the zones’ most legendary band, you had better deliver that fucker to the intended recipient. Hopefully they were still there. 

The Killjoys drove to the Zone 2 outpost, peeping the city’s outskirts on the way to see if anything had changed. It looked like there were people up top again, which was confusing. If She had died, who was in charge now? Ghoul watched, leaning out the backseat window, as a group of people in the city walked down the street hand-in-hand. It was far away, but he could see it. He was suddenly and viscerally reminded that the people in the city were still people. There were people like him in there, people like Poison in there. Hell, apparently even people like Kobra in there. 

The Zone 2 outpost looked as it always had, somewhat run-down yet cozy. They parked the car at the gas station, Jet exiting the car to refill on gas. Kobra, Ghoul, and Poison all walked to the outpost. Outside was a tour bus, a huge fucking monster of a thing. Kobra felt his chest tighten. If they ended up having to ride in that he would lose his mind. He couldn’t begin to think about how slow it went. 

Inside the outpost, the owner was blasting his favorite record, Hesitant Alien by the classic rock artist Gerard Way. Poison squirmed when he heard it, remembering the weird fact that he was based on a long-dead rock legend. He quickly went up to the counter to tap the small bell to let the owner know someone was there. The music got quieter and Poison tapped the bell again, confirming to the owner that someone was there.

“Well hello!” the owner bellowed as he came out of the back room, smiling brighter than anyone had ever seen. He looked to be in great health, walking with pep in his step as he came to lean on the counter. “If it isn’t the zone’s best protectors! What can I do for you all? And where’s Jet Star?”

“Getting gas,” Kobra said, tucking his hands into his jacket. “We’re actually here to meet someone.”

“Oh!” The owner looked ecstatic. “You’re here for the three band members! You gonna be seeing them around their tour?”

“We are, actually,” Kobra said. Poison glared at him. That wasn’t decided yet.

“That’s amazing! And what a chance, to get to see them perform a bunch of times instead of just getting to see one show! They gave me tickets to the Nest show, by the way!”

“Did they?” Poison asked, chuckling. “Is that why you’re so happy today?”

“That, and they let me play some of my favorite records for them in exchange for some goods! Spending time with a great band and good young people like them, that’s just about all I want. Could take or leave money.”

“Now that doesn’t sound like you,” Poison said, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling too. The owner of the outpost really was just a man trying to do business in peace. But he loved music and would give you a week’s worth of food if you sat with him and listened to his music. If you brought him something he liked? An album, maybe artwork? He’d let you run wild in the outpost for ten full minutes, you could take anything you wanted if you could get to in within ten minutes. That only happened rarely. “You’re running a business here, man! You’ve gotta have some kind of bills to pay.”

“Eh, bills shmills, I’m in the business of happiness out here.” The owner grinned again and sat in his usual chair behind the counter. He turned to look over his shoulder at the door to the back room and called, “the people you’re meetin’ are here, boys!” 

From the back room, three people came out. As soon as they did, Poison had to cover his mouth to keep from squealing in excitement. He knew it would be them, of course Kobra wouldn’t have lied to him. But it was really them, it was the Mad Gear and Missile Kid in the flesh, the band and the people. The band that had been there for him on long, dark, dismal nights where he figured he may as well take a bath with a toaster than live another day in Korse’s apartment. They were there for him on the long days in the zones where the Killjoys drove, doing their rounds. They were there for him when Ghoul had disappeared, thought to be dead at the bottom of Dead Man’s Drop. They were there for him and he didn’t even know what they looked like. But then, he kind of did. He’d seen them live once, a small venue just inside the city’s limits that he’d convinced Ghoul to take him to. He saw flashes of their faces as they thrashed on stage, but it was nothing compared to seeing and knowing that the Mad Gear and Missile Kid were standing five feet away. 

“Holy shit,” one of them said. He wasn’t very tall, noticeably shorter than all of them except for Ghoul, who he looked to be around the same hight as. He had a short haircut with long black bangs and arms full of tattoos. “Kobra Kid, in the flesh. How have you been, man?”

“Uh, I’ve been well, I guess,” Kobra answered, shrugging stiffly. “Not too bad for living in the desert.”

“Holy shit!” Jet shouted, having finally finished getting gas and come inside. “It’s really them!”

“It’s really us!” The black-haired guy shouted back excitedly. “I’m the Mad Gear, known to friends as Purple Mania.”

“Jet Star,” Jet said, reaching over the counter to shake his hand. 

“I know your names, you’re the zones’ Killjoys!” Mania smiled at him. He turned around to point to the man directly behind him. “That’s Missile Kid.”

“You can call me Soul Punk,” Missile Kid said with a shrug. He was looking at Kobra.

The third man, the one with a high undercut and long blond bangs, who wasn’t much shorter than Poison, stepped around the Mad Gear to stand across from Poison. 

“You two are really going to ignore your number one fan over here?” the man asked, grinning. “What’s your name, hot stuff?”

“Party Poison,” Poison said instantly, ignoring Ghoul staring daggers.

“Alliteration, fun, and dangerous. I like it. I’m Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, or Tango for short.” Tango reached over the counter and played with a strand of Poison’s hair. “You dye this yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” Poison said, watching his hand twirl the hair around. “I-I always dye it myself.”

“You do a good job.” Tango gently tugged on the strand before letting it drop and moving away from him, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. “You could teach me a thing or two.”

“I could,” Poison repeated, staring, still slightly starstruck. 

“Quit fucking flirting with our security team, Tango,” Mania groaned. “This is a business meeting.”

“Boo, boring.” Tango rolled his eyes. 

“Oh right!” Jet said, perking up. “So, what kind of security do you guys need?”

“Uh, escorts, people to watch the surroundings of the venues, stuff like that?” Mania offered. “We hadn’t really thought about it before, we aren’t sure what kind of help we’ll need.”

“Well, why ask for security in the first place?” Kobra asked, not trying to sound confrontational but coming off a bit annoyed.

“The city’s been changing a lot, I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Mania said, running a hand through his hair and looking somewhat uncomfortable. “Management has changed, too.”

“Is She…?” Ghoul almost whispered, staring intently at him.

“Nobody will tell us what happened, but the Temporary Authority told us that there’s a new CEO coming in to BLI soon.” Mania looked at Ghoul, noting his black hair for the first time. “She had somebody in mind for when things would have to change.”

“But… Is She really dead?” Ghoul was no longer with anyone, no longer having a conversation with a new friend. He was, quite literally, talking to his brother. “I fought Her back when She made that whole big deal about me being Her son, but I mean- She was a droid!”

“I don’t know.” Mania shrugged. He reached and put a hand on Ghoul’s shoulder. “They lie a lot, but I don’t think the Temporary Authority would be putting someone new in charge if She wasn’t.”

Everyone else in the room was staring, mouths agape, at the two. The things that had just come out of Ghoul’s mouth, that he was Her son, that he had fought Her, that She had been a droid- it was all too much for their brains. Even Poison was shocked. Ghoul hadn’t told him any of this, what the fuck? He was Her son?! 

“I have to know for sure,” Ghoul said, gaze hardening. “I have to-”

“I know how tempting it is,” Mania interrupted. “But trust me when I say, it’s better to not get any more mixed up in the city and BLI’s nonsense. It’s hard to hear, but let it go.”

Ghoul stared at him. Mania seemed older than him, if not in age then in experience. Clearly She had a habit of throwing Her kids to the wolves. Whoever ended up coming out the other side seemed to be and stay Her favorite. They both were in danger if they went back to the city, that must be why the Mad Gear and Missile Kid were going on tour in the first place.

“Uh, hi,” Poison said, snapping them both out of their conversation. “You wanna maybe explain what the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, uh,” Ghoul blinked at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Excuse me?” Poison narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mania echoed. “It’s family business.”

Poison stared at them. The only thing they had in common was their black hair. Maybe that was enough…

“Anyway,” Punk said, clearing his throat. “We might need you guys to come up with some ideas on what kind of security we need, actually. We left in a hurry, so we don’t have a ton planned out for that.”

“That’s no problem,” Kobra sighed, turning to Punk with a small smile. “I can promise we’ll do our best to create a safe environment for you and your fans. We can come up with something.”

The meeting was odd, but they got the answer they needed. The Mad Gear and Missile Kid needed to be on tour, and the Killjoys had collectively decided it was in everyone’s best interest that they act as security, following the information about BLI. Mania, Punk, and Tango all came out from behind the outpost owner’s counter and took the Killjoys out to their tour bus.

“How the hell do you drive this thing out here?” Kobra asked, kicking one of the tires to check its general pressure. 

“Very carefully,” Tango said cheekily, throwing the door open. “Gotta have a dust-born zoner to drive you around, someone who knows the streets that are still intact.”

Ghoul didn’t miss how Tango winked at Poison.

“That’s me, if that wasn’t clear,” Tango said flatly after a second. 

“We got it,” Jet chuckled.

Everyone filed onto the bus and marveled at the clean, shining leather and dark wood.

“So you just drive on the roads that aren’t mostly destroyed?” Ghoul asked, running a hand over one of the perfectly upholstered seats. “Isn’t that inconvenient?”

“Sure,” Tango said, shrugging. “But it’s safer than risking our whole bus to try and get somewhere remote. With this thing I’d be worried about it toppling over, you know?”

“Yeah…” Ghoul looked around. He’d never seen a tour bus before, it was ridiculously interesting to him. The nice furniture, the storage, but also the tightness of the space.

There was a hall that looked like it was lined with shelves, but the closer he got he realized they were cots. “You guys sleep like this?”

“You guys sleep on any mattress?” Tango shot back defensively.

“No- sorry,” Ghoul backpedaled. “I meant in the walls like this. Like- on shelves?”

“Yeah, we do,” Mania said, walking over. “It’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“Not as cramped as it seems, either,” Punk added.

Poison walked around, looking in awe at the interior of the bus. It was all perfectly preserved, or taken care of, or something. Nobody saw nice things like this in the zones. It was like it was brand new.

“Redid the couches myself,” Tango said from behind him, making him jump slightly.

“R-really?” Poison stuttered, looking at the couches. “They look really good.”

“Yeah, they do.” Tango was looking at Poison. “This thing doesn’t go very fast, but we love her anyway. She’s comfortable.”

“She looks comfortable,” Poison agreed, seeing pieces of what must have been the old bus’s interior. Metal that looked similar to the Loco. “How much is there? It looked a lot longer on the outside.”

“It is longer,” Tango said with a smile. “There’s a couple rooms past the bunks, a recording room and then an actual bedroom on the other side of that. The bedroom is used for storage, though. Wouldn’t be fair for one of us to get to use it when the others have to use the bunks.”

“That makes sense…” Poison looked around for more bits that looked like the Loco. Remnants of BLI. “Where did you find this thing?”

“Bought it,” Mania said, having come over to join them near the front of the bus.

“In the city?” Poison’s eyebrows shot up.

“Honestly, the city isn’t as horrible as everyone thinks it is.” Mania laughed.

Poison stared at him coldly.

“I-I mean- I meant, like, it’s not as hard to get stuff as people think.” Mania cleared his throat. Clearly a droid knew how horrible the city was. “It’s not all paperwork and bureaucracy if you buy stuff from each other.”

“I see,” Poison said with a nod. “So you refurbished it?”

“Yep!” Tango said happily, elbowing Mania. “I did most of it myself, the tables, the couches, the bunks, and the outside. It was a hell of a project, but the boys know how to pay someone for their work. Unlike the city.”

“You worked in the city?” Poison asked, turning to face him.

“Yeah, interior design for a while, then mechanics and electrical engineering. Never got paid a cent.”

“Mechanical engineering?” Poison raised an eyebrow. “For what, their billboards?”

“Droids.” 

“Hey, what’s the plan?” Kobra called suddenly, getting their attention. “Mania, how do you want us to do this?”

“Oh, uh, well,” Mania stuttered, walking over to him. “I guess if you guys want, you could sleep on the bus with us, or you could follow in your car. We don’t have the whole list of shows lined up yet. We know we want to play the Nest and the diner, but that’s really it.”

“So we need to come up with a better list of shows first, then organize security for those shows…” Kobra was talking mostly to himself. “We should probably sleep on the bus, but this thing will be hard to protect if something happens…”

“What if we bring the cycle?” Ghoul offered. “It’s not the fastest thing we have but it’s compact.”

“I like that,” Kobra said. 

“We could probably use the recording room as a mobile surveillance station, track anything moving around us,” Jet offered up, figuring that room must be able to hold a lot of equipment. “That and a radio room to talk with Dr. D and Show Pony.”

“With who and who?” Punk raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s all go to the radio tower and we can talk it over.” Kobra started walking toward the door. 

“The radio tower?” Mania looked concerned. “Isn’t that kind of… Far?”

“Oh come on, it’s barely farther than the Nest,” Kobra said through a deep sigh, clearly having had this conversation before. “It’s basically the same distance just in a different direction.”

“Is there a clear road there?” Tango asked, walking toward them.

Kobra opened his mouth to answer but Jet piped up before he could.

“No.” Jet looked concerned. “There isn’t… We’d have to take Flyaway till Sideline…”

“Take what till where?” Punk looked extremely confused. Mania mirrored his expression. 

“We’d have to take the southern highway until almost Zone 4,” Tango translated for them. “Then east into Zone 2.”

“That’s really far south,” Mania said, lifting his hand up to chew on his nails. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We have to go to the radio tower, though,” Poison said, crossing his arms.

“Why?” Tango asked, crossing his arms and facing Poison. 

“Dr. Death has way more know-how about the zones than we do,” Poison said, not perturbed at all by the shorter man. “Plus, we could possibly convince Show Pony to come along and then we wouldn’t even have to do anything. With them there, we could just watch the show…”

“Show Pony would never do that,” Ghoul said, waving a hand. “They’re way too busy looking after Dr. D.”

“Maybe…” Poison looked thoughtful. “But still, Dr. Death can help set up your tour more than we can on our own. Plus, we have semi-running water and actual good food.”

“… So do we?” Mania looked confused, but Tango raised his eyebrows. 

“Impressive,” Tango said, ignoring Mania. “But what does semi-running water mean?”

“It means that it’ll turn on when you twist the knob but it still drips when you turn it off,” Poison explained. “Also it’s cold as fuck.”

“Still,” Tango said, looking impressed. “Good for the zones.”

“Thank you.” Poison smiled.

Kobra got Mania and Punk to agree to come to the radio tower, though they didn’t have a choice since Tango would be driving. Jet assured them it was plenty safe. Ghoul bought up that they knew an even safer place where there was a doctor in the zones, which seemed to make Mania and Punk feel better.

“Did you guys rig the water yourselves?” Tango asked.

“Nope.” Poison started toward the door of the bus, following Kobra, Jet, and Ghoul. “We have no idea how we have water or power, the building just came like that, or so Dr. Death says.”

As Poison went to step off the bus, Tango held out an arm to stop him in the doorway, leaning slightly closer than comfortable to his face.

“Is this guy actually a doctor?” Tango asked with a smirk.

“Dr. D?” Poison felt his face get warm. “I have no idea. I assume he’s a doctor of something.”

“Kind of a weird name if he isn’t,” Tango agreed. He then leaned back, freeing Poison’s route off the bus. “You guys drive safe.”

“You too,” Poison said, stepping off the bus. He watched Tango lean out and close the door, then turned to the Killjoys’ car where the rest of them were waiting.

As he slid into the back seat, Ghoul turned around from the front with a suspicious look on his face.

“What took you so long?” He asked, jealousy all but dripping out his mouth.

“I only took an extra second?” Poison said as a question, raising an eyebrow. “Chill out, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe…” Ghoul’s face turned bright red as he turned back around in his chair, hiding his face from the other Killjoys, who were now chuckling at his jealousy and childish reaction.

The drive to the radio tower was their first lesson in teamwork. Kobra held his hand out the window to signal to Tango what they were doing. The tour bus was just about as slow as Kobra had assumed it would be. They weren’t going to have a very easy time protecting the thing, that was for sure. By the time they reached the radio tower Kobra could practically smell their apprehension from being so far out in the zones. Maybe not Tango, but going farther out into the zones was always a sticky subject with Mania and Punk. For them, it wasn’t going farther out from the city, it was going deeper into the zones. It was the other way around for zoners, obviously, but Mania had always told Kobra that going further from the city felt like being trapped. With the open roads and quiet nights of the zones, Kobra couldn’t relate to the feeling.

They pulled into the small parking lot of the radio tower with a bit of struggle. The bus teetered a bit over the bump of the sidewalk, but ultimately got up in one piece. Kobra got out of the car first, heading inside ahead of everyone else. The rest of them followed him inside as he called for Dr. Death.

“Yo, D!” Kobra shouted into the building. “We’re back, we have to talk about some stuff!”

“He’s out,” Show Pony said, popping out from around the corner that lead to the studio.

“What?” Kobra blinked at them.

The others came in just then, Mania, Punk, and Tango marveling at the building full of relics. The Killjoys all filled with concern about the fact that Dr. Death wasn’t in the building.

“He’d on a mission right now,” Show Pony said, seeming unbothered and checking their nails. “Is this them?”

“Y-yeah, this is them,” Kobra answered, trying to figure out what to do next. He was drawing a dangerously blank card from his brain. He hadn’t realized how much they all relied on Dr. Death for certain things. 

“The Mad Gear and Missile Kid, huh?” Show Pony took them in, noting their city clothes and fancy tattoos. “Nice to meet you, I’m Show Pony.”

“Nice to meet you,” Punk said back, smiling.

Mania stared at them, seeming genuinely shocked to see them.

“Mania?” Punk nudged elbowed him lightly. “Earth to Purple Mania?”

“H-how the fuck-” Mania stuttered.

“Ah,” Show Pony scolded, holding out a finger. Mania visibly flinched. “None of that. Keep your fucking mouth shut and say ‘nice to meet you’ motherfucker.”

“N-nice to meet you,” Mania choked out, gaze borderlining on horrified. 

“What the fuck is that reaction?” Ghoul looked between them.

Mania’s gaze switched to him, confused.

“You don’t reco-” Mania started, but Show Pony slammed their fist against the wall.

“I said, none of that.” Show Pony’s tone left no room for argument. Their gaze was sharper than the Killjoys had seen since Dr. Death’s break pads had been stolen by one of Quick Silver’s kids. “You keep your fucking mouth shut or I’ll shut it for you. Now sit the fuck down, I’m making us all cups of fucking tea.”

They all sat in the living room, making sure not to knock over the stacks of movies near the TV. Show Pony went off to finish making their tea and Mania quietly whispered some answers to everyone’s silent questions to the group.

“That droid- Ghoul, you don’t recognize them?” Mania whispered. 

“Other than Show Pony? No?” Ghoul whispered back. He and Poison shared a concerned glance.

“That droid was in the House,” Mania whispered even quieter. 

“What?” Ghoul’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Dead sure, dude, I grew up there,” Mania glanced at the hallway. “They were definitely one of the-”

“Tea’s done,” Show Pony said loudly, eyes immediately staring daggers at Mania. They walked in with eight precariously balanced teacups along their arms. “Take one down and pass it around.”

“So, Show Pony,” Poison piped up as soon as their hands were free. “Where did Dr. D go?”

“Oh, he got a call,” Show Pony answered instantly, looking over fondly at Poison. “Some favor he owed an old friend. He said it would take him a couple days, I wouldn’t worry about it. What’d you need him for?”

“We needed to help the guys set up their tour,” Kobra explained, sighing. “But I guess we have to do that ourselves now.”

“Seems that way,” Show Pony said with a nod. “I’ll help out any way I can, you can use the radio studio and the map in there.”

“Thanks,” Kobra said. He took a sip of tea and started evaluating the plan. Whatever bullshit the guys were whispering about earlier wasn’t their business. If Show Pony didn’t want them to know something, Kobra and Jet trusted that decision with their lives. They’d both known Show Pony just about as long as the other. Jet was the oldest Killjoy, he’d known Show Pony and Dr. Death longer than Kobra, but only by a little. Show Pony had saved their lives more than they could count, which meant that their judgment was final for them. Quite literally, if Show Pony said jump, Jet and Kobra would say how high.

In any case, the tour would have to be far-reaching. The group talked a bit about how long the Mad Gear and Missile Kid would need to be out of the city, and Kobra was starting to feel dread for deciding to do this for them. The time was climbing into many months. They started planning in the radio studio, making a list of venues and thinking about how to do proper security for them all. Any time Show Pony left the room, Jet and Kobra would shut the gossiping boys down and make them focus. 

By the time the sun went down, they had finally made up a proper list for the tour. In order, they would go to the diner, the Zone 2 gas station (at the corner of Sideline and Feral Lanes), the Zone 4 gas station (just before the Oblivion Hotel), the Zone 5 warehouse (newly abandoned), the gorge, the Transistor Sisters’ club house, the Cannery, and finally the Nest. It was eight shows, each its own beast to get to and to figure out security for, but each one was necessary to make the tour long enough. Mania and Punk weren’t too excited about some venues they chose, like the warehouse and the Cannery, but Kobra promised them that BLI didn’t go out that far anymore. 

With the tour schedule done and the security for the venues starting planning, the Killjoys and company decided to turn in for the night. Mania and Punk politely refused to stay in the radio tower, there were beds on the bus after all. The Killjoys started turning in for the night after that, Jet and Kobra going to take freezing showers and Ghoul heading to bed with Poison.

Poison found himself unable to sleep, as he often did. But instead of waking up Ghoul to talk or bother in any way, he just sat and stared out the dark window. He was reminded of a time long ago, a time he was more annoyed than anything to remember nowadays. A time where he would listen to the music of the two men currently sleeping in the parking lot to feel less alone. A surge of excitement ran through his body. He had met his favorite band, they were super cool people, they were fun to hang out with, and they thought he was cool too. How could he sleep with that knowledge? 

Sometime later, deep into the later hours of the night, Poison heard a tapping on the window of his and Ghoul’s shared room. He hadn’t realized his eyes were closed, and when he opened them he saw someone outside the window. Thanks to his mechanical eyesight, he could clearly see it was Tango, tapping once again on the window and waving for him to come outside.

Carefully, Poison untangled himself from Ghoul, gently replacing his body with a pillow and silently walking out of the room. As he stepped out into the cold desert night, he looked around for Tango in the dark. He jumped when Tango grabbed him from behind in a hug, having snuck up behind him.

“Jesus fuck,” Poison said quietly.

“Sorry,” Tango giggled, letting go and standing across from him. “Just keepin’ you on your toes.”

“Why did you want me to come out here? And why aren’t you asleep?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Tango raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk. “I thought it’d be fun to show you the bus, you seemed so interested before.”

“I mean, I would like to see it, but it’s the middle of the night.” Poison knew they should both be asleep. Plus, Ghoul would pop a blood vessel from jealousy if he found out they were sneaking around in the night together. “You should go to-”

“Come on, don’t be boring,” Tango whined, rolling his eyes playfully. “It’s one night, it’s just the bus. We’re not going off to steal drugs or kill people or anything. I figured it would be better this way because then people wouldn’t ask where we were, little Ravenhead in there wouldn’t lose his shit over it.”

Poison wanted to tell him not to call his boyfriend that, but wasn’t about to fight Ghoul’s battles. He thought about it, looking up at the bus. The longer he thought about it, the more impatient Tango looked.

“Dude, we could’ve been halfway through the tour by now,” Tango said flatly. “I could’ve been telling you all about the process of stripping the old thing of its shitty furniture by now.”

“Ugh, fine,” Poison said finally, stepping toward the bus with Tango. It really was just a bus tour, what was Ghoul going to do? Explode? The only one of the two of them that actually had to worry about exploding was Poison, so he figured it would be fine. And if Ghoul thought differently, they would talk about it.

Tango quietly opened the bus door, motioning to keep quiet since Mania and Punk were asleep. They shuffled to the back of the first room of the bus, past the bunks and into the small studio room. Tango told Poison about the sound-proofing that lined the walls, showed him the vintage instruments they had collected, pointed out the art from artists in the city they had on the walls. That last thing halted Poison’s steps. He turned and looked up at one of the paintings, a cityscape that matched perfectly to the city he remembered underground. The thing that brought unwanted tears to his eyes was the moderately sized window in the center of the painting. The window was just a square, filled in completely with black, no city to be found. It was the exact picture Poison had seen for years.

“Whoa, you alright?” Tango asked, walking back over to him.

“Y-yeah sorry,” Poison wiped his face. 

“I take it that struck some kind of cord?” Tango asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you know who painted it?” He asked, ignoring Tango’s question.

“Guy named Juarez,” Tango told him, rubbing his shoulder slightly. “A droid from the inner city.”

“That makes sense…” Poison sniffled and then turned away from the painting. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Tango let his arm fall from Poison’s shoulders. “You know, I know the story behind that painting. Something tells me you went through something similar.”

Poison wasn’t about to talk about this with him, not Tango. He barely knew him.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but… I’ve met a lot of droids in my time in the city. Hell, probably met more outside the city.” Tango walked over and sat down on one of the plush couches they had in the studio. “Plus I’m a great listener.” 

Poison looked at him, face and posture severely guarded. He didn’t just spill his guts for anyone. He stayed standing, arms crossed and looking around the room.

“Sorry to press,” Tango said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “I just- the minute I saw you I saw the scars.”

“What?” Poison was taken aback, turning to look at him. “What scars?”

“You’ve had surgery before, no?” Tango pointed to his general torso. “They don’t act like human scars, but droids develop scars too. I can see one along your rib cage.”

Poison looked down through the arm hole of his large black tank top. He saw the faint line where he’d had surgery before, that long and scary process where he almost lost his legs. 

“What happened?” Tango asked. “Does it have anything to do with the scars around your arms?”

Poison flinched, placing a hand on his right elbow. This guy was starting to freak him out.

“Sorry again, I said I worked on droids, didn’t I?” Tango smiled sheepishly. “It just seems like nobody else can tell. What you’re carrying with you.”

“I-” Poison stopped himself from talking, mostly because he was afraid of either shouting or spilling all his secrets. He didn’t trust Tango as far as he could throw him right now, regardless of how far that actually was.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango stood up and waved his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- I used to talk all the time with the droids I would give tuneups to. It was like therapy for them, finally getting to talk about everything they’d been holding in to keep their composure. Thought it might be helpful for you, too.”

“I think I’m too special a case,” Poison said quickly, stepping toward the door to the last room. “What’s back here?”

“The bedroom, but it’s just full of clothes and stuff.” Tango slid the door open, showing what was essentially the band’s closet. Tango looked bored until he got an idea. “Hey, you know, I think we have some old tour shirts in here.”

“Really?” Poison forgot their awkward conversation instantly. He had never managed to get a Mad Gear and Missile Kid shirt before.

“Yeah, it’s probably stale from sitting in these boxes so long, but you could scrub it with some dish soap and it’d be like new.” Tango started rummaging through boxes to find one, Poison excitedly standing at the door. He finally pulled one out of a box deep in the room. “There she is!”

“Holy shit,” Poison said, smiling wide. It was a shirt from their first ever tour, he could tell from the logo. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Indeed,” Tango said with a grin. He pulled the shirt over to rest on his left forearm, as if he were selling it. “A finely aged t-shirt, only slightly stained from tour bus oil. Should come out, but if not it’s just a part of her charm.”

Tango handed the shirt to Poison, who took it happily. Poison looked it over, eyes sparkling with joy. This shirt was a beautiful fucking relic of times past in the zones. 

They left the room, then, Poison deciding that he didn’t give a shit if the shirt was clean or not and pulling his tank top off to change into it.

“Holy fuck,” Tango exclaimed as soon as Poison’s shirt was off. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Poison looked down, seeing his scar that ran all the way around his torso.

“Did you- holy fuck!” Tango looked like he was trying to piece together how Poison was still alive, which was fair since he almost hadn’t lived through the experience.

“Bad gorge race accident,” Poison supplied, deciding that would be enough. It wasn’t.

“Did you lose your- are those-” Tango was trying to make a sentence and it wasn’t coming together. “Are those your legs?”

“Well, no,” Poison said finally. “But neither were the ones I had before.”

Tango stared at him, dumbfounded. “How the fuck are you still alive?”

“A good doctor,” Poison said carefully. “And a shitton of luck?”

“I’ll say,” Tango muttered, staring at the scar. He walked slowly toward Poison, hand hesitantly out to feel it. When Poison didn’t move, he gently ran a finger over the line on his left side. “That’s a hell of a cut… Jesus…”

“It was a hell of a race,” Poison said proudly. “I would’ve gotten second.”

Tango looked impressed. While first was everyone’s favorite place in a race, getting first against Royal Roadrunner wasn’t an option. Second had become just as impressive a place to get. “Whoever that doctor was did a fantastic job, it’s healed really well.”

“Yeah…” Poison felt odd, talking about his injuries with someone like Tango. 

“This one though…” Tango gently caught Poison’s left arm in his hand, running his thumb over an old, ugly scar. “This one doesn’t feel like it happened at the same time.”

“It, uh, didn’t,” Poison said stiffly. That was an old one. A really old one. “That was something… Else…”

Tango didn’t say anything at first, just examined the scar closer. “Looks like it was made by a BLI knife.”

Poison froze, staring at him. How the fuck could he tell?

“Sorry, was I right?” Tango smiled slightly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out, it’s just… I’ve seen many a cut made by BLI’s military knives.”

“I-it- it was,” Poison stuttered, blinking at him. “It’s a long story…”

“Seems like they were trying to get at your wiring in there,” Tango said, tapping the space next to the scar. “You wouldn’t let them open it, so they opened it themselves, yeah?”

Poison was starting to feel like a child- no, maybe not a child, maybe- maybe like his old self. “Yes.”

“What fucking savage…” Tango muttered angrily, tutting at the scar again. “That doctor you know didn’t give you any skin grafts for it?”

“H-he can’t do that kind of stuff,” Poison said, still feeling small. “His resources are limited.”

“I could,” Tango said, looking up at Poison. “I could easily make this little thing go away. I’ve got lots of leftover stuff from that job, I’d only need one thing.”

“What thing?”

“Your permission.”

Poison had once heard something from one of the Transistor Sisters: the sexiest thing in the world was consent. Maybe she’d been right, or maybe he was discovering something about himself, but Poison found himself just a bit too turned on than he probably should’ve been.

“Do you want me to fix it?” Tango asked, looking back at the scar.

“Tha- maybe.” Poison glancing around the room. He remembered he was about to put a shirt on and shifted to pull it over his head.

“Do you have others you want fixed too?” Tango let his arm go and took a step back. 

“I-I don’t know, I’ve never had the option.” Poison shoved his tank top into his pocket once the t-shirt was on. “I guess that would be- I guess I would like that.”

“Sorry again, if I’m making you uncomfortable. I’ve just heard too many horror stories from droid in the city…” Tango had caught sight of another scar as Poison put the new shirt on. One under his battery pack. That made his blood boil. His face fell into a scowl. “Who made the one under your battery?”

Poison once again froze, turning to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Just give me their name and they’ll disappear,” Tango said, voice dark and angry. “Who the fuck did that to you?”

“I’m not- I-I’m not just going to share my life story, okay?!” Poison finally said loudly, backing off from where Tango stood. “Look, I get you mean well, but you have to understand I- I’m not comfortable with talking about it! Yeah, I’m covered in scars, so are you! Yeah, I have a dark history from living in the city, so do you! Fuck, why do I want to-”

“I’m sorry,” Tango interrupted, holding up a hand. “It’s just that, you’re right. We’re both covered in scars and have lived horrible lives in the city. That’s why I want to talk about it, it helps so much to get that stuff off your chest with someone who gets it.”

“But you don’t get it!” Poison nearly shouted. Tango wasn’t worried, though. The studio was sound-proofed. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through! You don’t know the history behind any of my scars!”

“Then tell me, make me understand.” Tango was using a tactic he’d used a lot during his time in the city. Patience and understanding and a willingness to hear someone out. And absolutely no judgment. “Tell me why your scars are different.”

“Because they were made by a fucking scarecrow!” Poison shouted, eyes tearing up. “They were made by a manipulative, abusive, possessive animal! They were cut into me by a man so afraid to lose his fucking property that he would lure droids into alleyways and cut them up to repair me! He killed people to make sure I never had to go in for maintenance because I was obsolete! And I fucking let him!”

“His choices weren’t yours,” Tango said quickly between Poison’s outbursts.

“I let him pop me open with whatever sharp piece of metal he had on hand because I was never taught the importance of asking permission! I was never told how fucking disgusting it was to let someone handle you like that! I was never told how badly I’d been used, abused, and fucking violated!” Poison was sobbing now, tears running down his face, getting the neck of the tour shirt wet. “I was s-so fucking- violated! Do you know how that feels? To be told by a doctor that the way you’d lived your life was a product of your abuse? That the way you’d been handled was like a greedy child ripping open their teddy bears to play doctor?”

Tango didn’t reach to comfort him, trying to stay a neutral presence while Poison exploded at him. Inside, he was furious at this scarecrow.

“So many fucking years of staring out that window!” Poison whipped around to point at the painting. “So many fucking nights in a bathtub filled with my own blood while Korse was out pulling boys apart to try and find a replacement for my newest broken joint!”

Tango’s eyes widened at the mention of Korse, but Poison forged on.

“Broken joints that he fucking broke! He would throw shit at me, twist my arm till it popped a wire- he once whacked me across the back of my head so hard my fucking eyes almost came out!” Poison was back to shouting in Tango’s now stunned face. “So that’s what you don’t fucking understand, Tango! That’s why my fucking scars are different!”

Tango stayed quiet as Poison started to break down in front of him, first falling to his knees, then bawling into his hands and shaking violently. Tango knelt down and finally hugged him. He pulled him close, letting Poison twist his arms around him tightly. He let him cry for a while, just petting his hair and helping him calm down.

“Hey,” Tango said after a while. Poison was still trembling a bit but not outright crying anymore. “You feeling better?”

Poison didn’t say anything, he just kept his face tucked against Tango’s neck and nodded slightly.

“Good. You tired?”

He nodded again. 

“Do you want to go back inside?”

Poison thought for a moment, then shook his head. He moved back, wiping his face. “… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t apologize,” Tango chuckled, keeping his hands on Poison’s shoulders. “I literally asked for it. Thank you for trusting me with all that.” 

Tango waited for Poison to fully calm down, for his breathing to be even. When Poison finally lifted his head Tango went to ask another question, but he was cut off by Poison kissing him.

It was jarring at first, unplanned and out of nowhere. But, the sleep deprived and somewhat turned on side of his brain argued, if Poison was the one to initiate it he wasn’t going to say no. 

Poison’s kisses got more desperate as time went on, and soon Tango felt tears on his face. He should’ve pushed him back, asked what was wrong, done something other than bite his lip. Seemed like it wasn’t in the cards for him that night. Things got more out of hand as Poison pushed him over onto his back, not letting him go. Tango wondered if he and Ghoul did this often. Ah, fuck. Ghoul. The little guy would tear him to pieces if he found out about this. Then, Tango’s tired mind thought, he would never find out. Unless Poison told him, of course.

It was a mess, there was nothing for it. Tango was pinned underneath Poison, who was starting to change course. Tango couldn’t handle the idea of taking advantage of him like this anymore. Though tired, he knew he couldn’t just let it happen. Tango threw a hand up to the back of Poison’s neck where he felt yet another scar, tugging the hair back there to pull him away. Instead, Poison moaned, which was definitely not what Tango had meant to do. Next, he tried pushing his shoulders, which Poison took as wanting to switch roles. He pulled Tango off the ground and fell back against the floor of the studio, panting.

The sight instantly burned into Tango’s mind. Poison’s hair a mess, strewn about the carpet around his face, which was flushed pink. His lips were shining from their spit and his eyes were shining with determination (and probably those tears from earlier). Tango was not the one in charge right now. He was pulled back down for another kiss just as the two most dangerous words he’d ever thought popped into his head.

Fuck it.

* * *

The morning rolled around, waking everyone up with the sun first, then later the heat. That was one thing the tour bus wasn’t totally able to stave off, the heat. They had an air conditioner, but the real issue was finding coolant, even within the city. Right now they were saving it for a rainy day, which is why the bus’s studio felt like a sauna that morning. Definitely not because of anything else.

Poison felt like shit. He felt like a piece of shit, he felt like he had the world’s worst headache from sleeping on the floor, and he was pretty sure he had very telling carpet burns in some places. When he looked over he saw Tango sitting up, sweaty from the morning heat. He knew exactly where they should go.

With practiced precision, Poison snuck out of the bus with Tango and into the radio tower through the back entrance. He made his way to the bathroom where they reveled in the freezing water together for a while, before the morning sun started to warm wherever the water was coming from. After washing up, they both got dressed again and went to sit in the quiet radio studio. Tango looked like he wanted to talk, but Poison was more interested in checking the radio’s signal and seeing if there were any distress calls.

“… We’re going to have to talk about it,” Tango said quietly.

Poison turned to a dead station, fuzz blasting through the speaker. “I don’t want to. It was a mistake.”

“Was it?” Tango raised an eyebrow. “Because you seemed pretty sure of your choice.”

Poison bit his lip, then turned back to the radio and flipped around to find another station. It was for nothing, of course. No stations but BLI’s and Dr. Death’s were active. The only thing he could look for was a distress call, and he’d already screened for that.

“I’m not trying to be an ass, but you used me last night,” Tango said over the radio fuzz. “That’s just a fact, is it not?”

“I was emotionally compromised,” Poison said quickly, looking frustrated.

“And I wasn’t?” Tango shot back.

Poison stared at him in realization. Tango’s past, his history with droids, his insistence on helping Poison work out his shit about Korse- of course he was in his emotions too. How selfish of him to assume he was the only one torn up about it all. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Tango said quickly, rubbing his face tiredly. “I just meant- you got me all worked up with your story, I get pretty attached to people like you.”

“Broken people?” Poison said without thinking.

“Strong people,” Tango corrected, looking shocked that Poison had said that about himself. “People with bad histories who’ve made themselves better from them. People who’ve dragged themselves out of the pits of hell with their bare hands.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Poison muttered, turning back to the radio again. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, I was the one who pulled you out of bed.”

“I was the one who pulled you into bed,” Poison shot back. “We’re both to blame, me probably more than you…”

Tango tapped his fingers on the desk, kicking slightly to spin in his chair. He didn’t know how to progress from here, he hadn’t meant to sleep with Poison last night, only to show him the bus… And even that, he knew, was a bit dishonest. He’d flirted the first time they met, then continued to do so after he’d known Poison and Ghoul were a thing. He also couldn’t lie about feeling horrible, he felt bad at best and disappointed at worst. Disappointed that Poison felt that it had been a mistake. Because to Tango it had felt like magic. Maybe it was the unfortunate fact that Poison was made for it, but Tango had never felt more connected to a partner. Instead of dwelling on that, Tango decided to ask the question he didn’t get to last night.

“Who else have you told?” He asked, looking up at Poison carefully. His reaction told him everything he needed to know.

Poison went still, then looked down at nothing. “About what, exactly?”

“The nitty gritty of your past,” Tango clarified.

“… Ghoul knows more than anyone else, the rest only know bits and pieces…” Poison trailed off, looking like he had last night, not wanting to talk about it anymore. 

“Does he know everything?” Tango bit the inside of his cheek, drumming his fingers on the desk.

“No.” Poison’s short answer left them in silence. He hadn’t ever planned to tell Ghoul everything that he’d been through, mostly because it was in the past. What good could come from drudging all that up? Maybe he hadn’t totally processed it, maybe he was counting on never seeing Korse again and dying in the zones when he was either fat and old like the Zone 2 outpost owner or when he was at his prime in a gorge race. Maybe he knew Ghoul had a history in the city and that he would overreact. Maybe he would rather lose a fight with a pack of dracs than pour his heart out to someone. Maybe it wasn’t any of those things, and maybe Poison just wanted to move on and not be reminded of his past anymore. Maybe it was time to let the fuck go.

“My offer still stands,” Tango said suddenly, snapping Poison out of his spiral.

“What?”

“If you want me to get rid of those scars,” Tango explained. “I can. Offer stands.”

Poison stared down at the desk he was leaning on. He wanted that. He only wanted the scars he’d earned covering him. Only the scars from his decisions. The torso scar, the laser burn scars, the small scars from the crash up his arms- only his. The others needed to go.

“You don’t have to choose now, I’m just saying-”

“Offer accepted,” Poison said, pushing away from the desk and walking to the map table. “Get what you need and tell me when you can do it. Until then, help me map out our first route.”

* * *

The bed was cold. Well, not cold, Ghoul was still under a blanket. But Poison wasn’t there, so it wasn’t as warm as usual. The sun was already tanning him through the window, so he pulled himself out of bed and stood up to stretch. Poison must’ve had a sleepless night again. Why hadn’t he woken him up?

The living room was quiet, Jet was already up and eating dry cereal out of a box that had been sitting by the TV. Kobra, as Ghoul soon found out, wasn’t in the building. Ghoul walked around and saw Poison and Tango planning in the radio studio, but Kobra wasn’t around. He figured he must be on the bus.

Ghoul tapped on the windowed door of the studio, startling Poison slightly. 

“Hey,” Poison greeted as he opened the door. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Ghoul said back, yawning as he walked into the room. “What’s up?”

“Planning the first route,” Tango said, pointing to the map. “The diner is close, and we’ve been there before, so I know what roads to take to get there.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Ghoul said, walking to look at the map with him. 

“But it’s the next venue I’m worried about, security-wise.” Tango pointed to the fork of Sideline and Feral Lanes. “The gas station is right between these two main highways, we’re going to need people checking all three roads just in case.”

“Do you really think it would be that dangerous?” Ghoul asked, trying to get his tired brain running faster. “More than the diner?”

“Yes, concerts are loud as fuck, and those two highways are well-known for their drac squads.” Tango made temporary marks on the map, circling parts of the road around the gas station. “Temporary Authority or not, we’re at a naturally higher risk there than at the diner.”

“Okay, so we could keep one person per road with a flair gun, then keep the rest of us ready to evacuate the concert-goers and run if one goes off.” Ghoul pointed to each of the little circles. “Like, Poison up north, me southwest, and Kobra southeast. Jet is the best at leading people, so he can make sure everyone gets out safe in time.”

“What about the three of you watching the roads?” Tango asked, raising an eyebrow but not looking up from the map.

“I was thinking about that, actually,” Ghoul said, tapping the map. “We have one cycle, which is good for storing on the bus and using in a pinch, but I think we should go steal more.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Poison said instinctively. “Breaking into the city to steal cycles right now?”

“It is dangerous,” Tango said, but bit his lip slightly. “But I think he’s right. Logistically, we don’t have enough cars for that to work well, plus there’s still the issue of where to keep your car if you do end up bringing it. I think the cycles are a great idea.”

“But the city is a really unstable environment right now,” Poison argued. “I agree, the cycles sound like a good idea, but how are we going to get them? I don’t want anyone going in there right now.”

“Well, I know someone inside,” Tango said, face lighting up. “He might be able to get us some in time for the tour. Do you have any long-range coms?”

“Uh, no,” Poison said sheepishly, making Tango’s plan grind to a halt. “We don’t have anything that can transmit into the city. It’s a black box.”

“Fuck,” Tango muttered, looking back at the map. “Well then, I can make a quick trip into the city and find us some.”

“No, that’s exactly what I just said I don’t want us doing,” Poison whined, flopping into Dr. D’s desk chair.

“Gotta break a few eggs, P,” Tango sighed.

“What?” Poison squinted.

“You have to make sacrifices to get what you want,” Ghoul translated. “You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.”

“What the fuck is an omelet?” Poison muttered to himself.

“We can both go,” Ghoul said. “We’ll run in, grab the nearest cycles we can find, and bring them out. We can handle any tuneups they might need after that.”

“Like the general plan,” Tango said with a nod. “Let’s get specific. We break into the city from the north, head straight to the pawn shop near the Second Ring. If they don’t have any there, we keep heading south until we find one.”

Ghoul blinked at him. He definitely didn’t know the surface city as well as Tango seemed to.

“Older cycles tend to be up top, the newer, faster ones are below, but we don’t have time for that. There’s probably one stashed in an alleyway somewhere that we could easily snag.” Tango was deep in thought. “Do I have any enemies north of the Second Ring?”

“Okay, I don’t like this,” Poison protested, spinning in the chair. “Ghoul, please don’t go back into the city, neither of you know how things have changed yet. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ll take our chances, I know the city topside better than I know most of the people I hang around,” Tango argued. “If one person is going to make this work, it’s me.”

“P, don’t worry too much about it. Last time I was there, things were… different. I doubt much has changed since then.” Ghoul smiled at him, trying to calm his nerves. Poison just stared at him and then groaned, spinning in the chair more.

“Fine, but promise me you both will come back in one piece,” Poison said behind his hands. He rubbed his eyes. He was still tired.

“Promise,” Ghoul said, reaching to pat his knee.

“I promise too, but only because I already know I will,” Tango said defiantly, carefully erasing the circles he’d drawn on the map. 

And so, still without their guiding force of Dr. Death, the rest of the Killjoys and the band were briefed on the current plan. Kobra and Jet were hesitant, but willing to risk it for now. Mania and Punk were fine with the plan, as long as they didn’t have to go back into the city. Kobra was still unsure about why exactly they couldn’t go back yet. He’d talked with them earlier, on the bus, mostly about where they were going to be sleeping and where the cycle would have to be stored.

Kobra was still unsure about a lot of things, actually. One of those things was the possibility of the bus breaking down or wrecking. If that happened, they could potentially be stranded in the middle of the zones with no transportation, let alone whatever had caused the bus to crash or break down. If that happened they would be fully and truly fucked. Unless they had a backup plan, which was one thing he was still piecing together. He could insist on bringing the trans am, but then they turned into a traveling caravan rather than one large vehicle. Traveling caravans were much more likely to get ghosted if seen by a rouge gang. And yes, those still existed. Only a few had sprouted up recently, which meant there were only about four in the entirety of the zones, but they could cause real trouble. One thing they had in common was their age. Rouge gangs were often younger zoners, probably experiencing their first time alone in the zones. It made sense to stick with your pack, but they were too young to understand the need for camaraderie in the zones. The need for camaraderie against BLI. In any case, Kobra was thinking about a lot today. 

Tango promised they would return safely, adding that he would try to find a working radio if things took longer than a day. Ghoul pulled Poison aside as the others were helping them get ready to leave. 

“Hey, I know you’re nervous about this,” Ghoul said, tone hushed. Poison had his arms crossed, so Ghoul ran his hands down Poison’s shoulders. “But I’ve come back before. I promise I’ll keep coming back.”

“You fucking better,” Poison said, looking at the group over Ghoul’s shoulder. He spotted Tango, who was bending down to pick up a box of spare wires. He definitely did not stare at his ass. He quickly shot his gaze back to Ghoul. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Poison bit his lip. He’d spoken without thinking. “I’m sorry that I’m freaking out about this. I know, you’ve got this under control. Plus, you’ll have Tango with you.”

“It’s okay, the city is scary.” Ghoul pulled him in for a hug, noting him still being tense just a moment too long. But Poison did melt into the hug, taking a deep breath and sighing it out as he rested his head on Ghoul’s shoulder.

“It is scary,” Poison agreed, nodding slightly. “A scary place with scary monsters lurking in the dark.”

“I’ll keep my light on,” Ghoul said softly into Poison’s neck.

From across the room, Tango glanced at them and saw for a moment what he’d put in jeopardy. Poison was wrapped in a tight hug, head resting on Ghoul’s shoulder, Ghoul with his face pressed into Poison’s neck. Poison looked wracked with guilt, the expression intensifying when he looked up at Tango for a moment. Tango had wedged himself between them, too lazy to prevent what was now clearly a horrible mistake. And now, it either had to fade into obscurity, forever a secret between Tango and Poison, or it had to come to light as soon as possible. But it didn’t seem like Poison was going to make that choice any time soon. Was it his choice to make? Tango felt it probably should be. Though, he wondered, was that him diffusing responsibility? Would it be better or worse to hear it from the one Poison had cheated on him with? The situation was a thousand times more difficult now that they were both fully awake and in their right minds. This was not going to go well.

* * *

The cycles were easy to find, it turned out. Tango and Ghoul had crept through the north side of the city, carefully avoiding detection from what seemed to be new security roaming the streets. They didn’t have time to sit around and figure out whatever new militant leader they had, they just needed the cycles. 

Tango still felt they’d gotten lucky. They had found a whole garage with cycles and one-person cars being worked on. Ghoul and Tango had both snagged one cycle each, making sure they turned on and ran well enough to get out of the city. Then, they threw caution to the wind and sped off the way they’d come. Tango led, Ghoul following closely behind. Tango knew the streets better than Ghoul did on the surface. Ghoul knew the inner workings of the underground part of the city better. 

As they sped out of the city, nobody chased them. Ghoul thought that was strange, but Tango shrugged at it. 

“Probably low on man power,” Tango shouted over the wind.

They managed to get back to the radio tower that night in time for dinner with everyone else. Minus Dr. Death, of course. He was still off on his secret mission of “repaying a debt” to an old friend. Whatever that meant. 

As they drove up, Poison ran out to meet them in the parking lot. Jet and Kobra followed after him. Ghoul barely turned off the cycle before Poison’s arms were around him. Tango pretended not to care as he took his cycle up to Jet and Kobra.

“They need some tuneups, but they’re good. Best we could find,” Tango said, wheeling the cycle to Kobra who took the handlebars. “We got lucky.”

“You guys did great,” Kobra said earnestly. “I’ll start working on them tonight, see what I can get going.”

Tango nodded, then went inside. Mania and Punk were sat on the couch watching a movie. It was something with a lot of screaming.

“Hey, Tango,” Mania greeted. “You guys get what you needed?”

“Yeah,” Tango said. He sighed as he sat down next to them.

“Something wrong?” Punk asked leaning over to look at him.

“Nope. Everything’s fine.” Tango didn’t try to make himself sound honest. He didn’t care. Mania and Punk didn’t ask him about himself often. They didn’t care.

“If you say so.” Punk shrugged, sitting back against the couch.

Mania eyed him for a moment more, then turned back to the movie. Business as usual with them.

The Killjoys came back into the tower, minus Kobra. He was pulling the cycles around to the small garage area. Jet sat down with Mania, Punk, and Tango to continue watching the movie. Poison went with Ghoul back to their shared room. Tango didn’t let himself watch them, he knew he needed to distance himself. Otherwise, he’d go mad.

Poison tugged Ghoul into the room, kicking the door shut and then kissing him forcefully. Ghoul staggered back against the door, taken off guard. Poison held Ghoul’s jaw as he slowed down to kiss more gently, feeling tears well up in his eyes. Ghoul softly nudged Poison’s forehead with his, breaking their kiss.

“What’s wrong?” Ghoul asked quietly. He could feel it, almost like an aura around Poison, radiating off him in waves. Guilt.

“I did something I shouldn’t have,” Poison stuttered, gasping as he realized he was sobbing.

“What?” Ghoul’s voice was still soft, worried more that Poison had something eating away at him rather than the actual thing Poison may have done.

“I cheated on you,” Poison blurted out, chest collapsing in.

Ghoul blinked. That was not what he expected to hear. That wasn’t what he’d expected to ever hear coming out of Poison’s mouth. Ever. Cheated? “With who?”

“T-Tango.” Poison went to take a step away, but Ghoul snapped his arms around Poison’s waist.

“When?” Ghoul asked softly. He wasn’t mad at him, strangely. He was just curious.

“Y-yesterd-day.” Poison wiped at his eyes, sniffling. He was starting to get confused.

Ghoul considered this. He should’ve realized something was off. Well, he had. He noticed Poison’s demeanor, his behavior, the way he’d said things. He just hadn’t known why. “Do you regret it?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” Poison coughed out, new tears flooding his eyes. “I-I was just- we were talking about emotional stuff, and he was there. I used him, I-”

“Shh,” Ghoul shushed him, rubbing his back lightly. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“Yes, we b-both- it was a mistake, he knows that,” Poison said, still worried he’d fucked everything up. “It was a fucked up mistake, he’d flirted with me on the bus, I took advantage of that, I- I just needed some kind of outlet, I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Ghoul said, tutting at his blubbering boyfriend.

“Are you serious?” Poison sounded almost mad through his tears. “I fucking- I fucked someone else! You should be mad at me!”

“But I’m not.” Ghoul stepped forward and spun them around, pressing Poison’s back against the door. “I know you, P. I can see, hear- I can feel how upset with yourself you are about it. You know it was a mistake, so does Tango. You clearly have been beating yourself up about it, so no, I’m not mad. I forgive you.”

Poison stared at him, fresh tears filling his eyes once again. He surged forward and kissed Ghoul again, wrapping his arms around Ghoul’s neck. He felt so fucking relieved. Even though he’d expected something- anything other than forgiveness. But maybe, he thought, that was a product of the only other relationship he’d been in?

As he was moved from the door to their bed, kisses pressed against his neck, he pondered if cheating like he had should’ve been a bigger deal. Teeth grazed his collarbone as he thought about what he would do if Ghoul cheated on him. He dug his nails into Ghoul’s shoulders as he decided that he would be far more upset if Ghoul ever cheated on him. But, he added as Ghoul unbuttoned his pants, maybe that was an overreaction, at least based on Ghoul’s reaction.

However, Ghoul, while not mad at Poison, was pissed at Tango. If they had had a conversation about something that worked Poison up that much, Ghoul thought as Poison pulled his hair, Tango should’ve known better not to take advantage of him like that. Poison gasped into his mouth as Ghoul thought about what he would have to say to Tango later. He’d wedged his way into their lives, he’d have to put up with the consequences.

* * *

Kobra was in the middle of diagnosing the two cycles when he heard the door leading from inside the radio tower open. He didn’t turn around to see who it was, he kept his attention on the fraying wires under the hood of one of the cycles.

“Kobra Kid,” Mania said, quietly walking over to him. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

“Busy,” Kobra said shortly, tugging lightly on one of the cycle’s engine parts. Loose, it would need replacing.

“Kid, I just wanted to-”

“I said I’m busy,” Kobra said, louder. There was a new edge to his voice. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

“… I like what you changed it to,” Mania said after a beat. He sat down on one of the work chairs, next to Kobra. “Your name.”

“It needed to be changed,” Kobra muttered. He wrote down the parts he would need to find on a notepad on his lap.

“You have your reasons,” Mania said, nodding. “But I do miss Kid Nuclear.”

Kobra stayed quiet. His old name was… Hard to hear, coming from Mania. He’d changed it for a reason. He didn’t want to be Nuke anymore. 

“Look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with us around,” Mania said suddenly. “If you want me to stay away from you, tell me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kobra snapped, already wanting to bite his lip and leave the room. He hated when his anger boiled over. “Stop acting like that.”

“Like what, Kid?” Mania drew his eyebrows together in frustration. “I’m not acting like anything.”

“Like that!” Kobra spun on his work chair, glaring at Mania. “Like you’re an innocent little kid who’s done nothing wrong!”

“I don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kobra threw his pencil across the garage. 

“Kobra,” Mania said, tone stronger this time.

Kobra slumped his shoulders, facing away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Mania said. “I just- I missed you. I missed you picking fights with me, I missed hearing your voice.”

“Stop.” Kobra’s tone was trying to be more intimidating than it was sounding. 

“I just wish you’d tell me what I did wrong so that I can change,” Mania said softly.

“That.” Kobra looked at him over his shoulder. “You don’t understand how horrible that is to hear.”

“What?!” Mania shouted, standing up. “I’m telling you I’ll change for you!”

“I’m telling you that’s not how relationships work!” Kobra shouted back. “You’re so fucking dense sometimes!”

“Fuck you!” Mania took a step toward Kobra as he stood up.

“Fuck you!” Kobra shouted as Mania took his face in his hands and kissed him. Kobra let him for two seconds, then shoved him off and stepped back. “Get out of my fucking garage.”

“Kid, please let me-”

“Leave!” Kobra sat angrily back down in his chair, pulling a new pencil out from his workbench. 

Mania stood by for a while, then turned around and went back inside. 

Kobra Kid glared at his blurry notes through his forming tears. It was fucking tragic, their story. At least to him. Mania had grown up in the city, which gave him lots of know-how in certain areas, but left him seriously lacking in others. One such area was forming and keeping normal relationships. He’d never had real parents, which meant his role models were those around him. According to Mania, he was raised by droids in the House (whatever that was). Kobra remembers Mania talking about how he watched the droids change to make others happy, how he knew that was how you kept people around you, how he figured out how to change like them even if he couldn’t physically change. It made Kobra’s stomach sick. It was also not something Kobra could fix. If Mania couldn’t realize that was a horribly unhealthy way to be in a relationship, Kobra couldn’t stay with him. It became too much. Any disagreement turned into Mania claiming he’d changed his opinion about whatever they’d disagreed on. Kobra said he liked tattoos once, Mania came home with many covering his arms and legs. Kobra said that knives scared him, Mania got rid of every single one within a five mile radius. Mania said he liked blond hair, Kobra disagreed, Mania switched his opinion. When Kobra had done his hair blond years later, Mania commented on it and Kobra said he’d changed his mind, so Mania said so too. It was unhealthy, it was too much for Kobra, it was like he always had to be right and agreed with and Mania had to do everything he wanted. Kobra liked music so Mania started a band. Kobra didn’t like having to watch, so Mania bought him a bass so he could play. When Kobra said he didn’t want to be a part of the band anymore, Mania almost ended the whole operation. The only reason the band was still around was because of Punk. Punk wanted to continue the band, so Mania agreed with him. Kobra loved Mania, or had at one point, and it hurt to see him act like that. It felt manipulative, sometimes on both ends.

The garage was quiet as Kobra worked away at the cycle. He found some spare wires to replace the fraying ones, a few extra pieces to fix up the engine, and spare hubcaps that just barely fit to replace the old cracked ones. He looked at the cycle, something he could fix and make better. He always liked cars better than people; you couldn’t fix people’s problems single-handedly, but you could almost always fix a car’s problems. You just needed the right parts. 

The door to the garage opened again. This time, Kobra looked over his shoulder, just to make sure it wasn’t Mania again. To his surprise, Tango stood in the doorway. 

“Hey dude,” Tango said, yawning. “It’s kind of late. You might want to turn in for the night.”

“What are you, my nanny?” Kobra scoffed, turning back to the cycle.

“Depends, are you hiring?” Tango asked playfully, walking out to see what he was working on. “Do you need help?”

“With this?” Kobra raised an eyebrow. “No. Parts, maybe, but help? No.”

“Sounds like you just said no, yes, no.” Tango rolled his eyes. “What parts? We might have scrap on the bus.”

Kobra handed him the list. “Did I overhear you say you were a mechanic before?”

“You did.” Tango nodded. He scanned the list. “We might have all this, we’ve collected tons of shit.”

Tango walked with Kobra out the large garage door to the parking lot where the bus still sat. They walked around to the back, where Tango opened the outside storage compartments to reveal huge vats of scrap and spare parts.

“Damn,” Kobra said, impressed. “That’s really convenient.”

“It is,” Tango agreed, digging through the first compartment. “We’re sort of hoarders, we don’t get rid of anything unless we have to.”

“Be careful lugging around this much stuff,” Kobra said.

“I know.” Tango nodded. “Bandits and whatnot.”

Tango handed Kobra the parts from the list as he found them, eventually having found all of them. Then they went back into the garage to work on the cycle.

“Have you looked at the other one yet?” Tango asked, sitting down in the work chair Mania had used earlier.

“Nope, pop her open,” Kobra said. He sat down and started working on the first cycle while Tango looked at the second.

They worked for a long time, well into the later hours of the night. Kobra finished tuning up the first cycle, then went to help Tango after he’d gone back out to the bus for more parts. They learned from each other as they worked, Tango teaching Kobra about wiring and plating, Kobra teaching Tango about engines and gearboxes. By the time they were done, Kobra felt comfortable around Tango for the first time. They had something in common, something they both understood about each other. Tango was glad Kobra felt comfortable around him, having realized pretty quickly that Kobra was the coldest and most shut off member of the Killjoys. At least toward new people. But then, Tango wasn’t really new to Kobra. They’d met just before he’d left the band, back when Tango was more of a pyrotechnics guy for them. They’d never gotten a chance to fully get to know each other.

When they finally wrapped up, it was because Show Pony came to check on them.

“I didn’t see you in your room,” they said to Kobra. “I figured I’d find you out here.”

“Sorry,” Kobra said as he was putting his tools away. “Managed to get the cycles finished already with Tango’s help.”

Show Pony said nothing, but looked directly at Tango. Their gaze wasn’t angry or anything, but Tango felt scrutinized as they carefully watched his movements.

“If you didn’t have dinner, eat something and go to bed.” Show Pony smiled at Kobra, then turned around and went back into the radio tower.

There was something going on with Show Pony, Kobra knew well enough. But he wasn’t about to ask them about it. That would lead nowhere.

Tango retired himself to the bus and Kobra went to his room. He realized he hadn’t had dinner, but he wasn’t about to search around in the dark to find food, he would just go to sleep. He walked past Jet’s room on his way, but stopped when he heard a whisper.

“What?” Kobra called quietly into the dark crack in Jet’s door.

“Come here,” Jet whispered, louder this time. 

Kobra quietly entered Jet’s room, shutting the door behind him. Jet was sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at a letter.

“It’s from Dr. Death,” Jet said, handing it to Kobra.

_Dear Team OG,_

_I have a favor to ask you two; when the time comes, stick by Fun Ghoul._

_That sounds cryptic as hell, for good reason. I can’t explain everything, but something is going to happen soon that will try to tear the Killjoys apart. When that happens, stick together. Don’t split, no matter how much you want to. Do your best, protect each other, and don’t wait up for me._

_I’ve seen you out here, don’t ask how. I’m proud of you._

_Dr. Death Defying_

Jet waited intently for Kobra to finish reading. When Kobra looked up, Jet raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think it means?” Kobra asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Jet sighed, taking the letter back. “I don’t like the wording.”

“Me neither.” Kobra sat down next to Jet.

The two original Killjoys. Kobra had found Jet when he’d first left the city many years ago. Jet had been hanging out at the Nest, the only place Kobra had been to in the zones before with the band. He knew it was neutral ground, but still approached cautiously. Jet offered him some snacks and Kobra silently joined him watching a movie. The had bonded over the movie, then talking about themselves and their lives a bit. Jet had told Kobra about this gang he wanted to start.

“I want to leave the scrapping teams, start something substantial,” Jet had said wistfully. “There are other gangs in the zones, they all stay out of trouble, but none of them go out of their way to help one another.”

“You want to go drac hunting?” Kobra had asked with a snort.

“No, I want to be the person other gangs call to protect them from raids,” Jet had said without missing a beat. He’d clearly talked about this before to someone. “I want to be the one people trust with their lives. I want to be the one willing to risk my own life to save others. I want to be someone people can confide in, someone people can trust.”

“For what?” Kobra had found himself caught up in the image, a super hero like in the city’s comic books that helped zoners all over the zones.

“To make the zones less depressing.” Jet had turned to him with bright eyes. “I see so many people come through here every day with the same expression on their face. They’re tired, they’re bored, they’re resigned. Resigned to living in a dust bowl waiting for Big Man BLI to come stomping over everything they’ve built. I want to be the person they can trust to scare BLI off. Put some good old-fashioned fear in Her eyes and make Her worried about the voices in the zones getting louder.”

“The fuck have you been smoking, dude?” Kobra had laughed.

“Who cares!” Jet had shouted, laughing too. “Don’t you want to be able to just- live?”

Kobra had sat and thought about his time thus far in the zones. Everyone he’d met had either begged him to trade something or tried to steal from him. Morale was low in the zones, even with places like the Nest.

Kobra hadn’t given Jet his answer back then. Jet continued trying to refine his vision for the gang, formally naming it the Killjoys to use what he called “backwards psychology.” Kobra agreed to be a part of the gang, quickly learning about the Transistor Sisters from hanging around the Nest so much. 

Jet put his arm around Kobra’s shoulders, bringing him back to the present moment.

“Guess we just have to do what we do best,” he said with a yawn.

“Be the fucking superglue that keeps this damn shanty of a gang together,” Kobra griped. “Again.”

Jet laughed, probably too loud for the time of night it was. Nothing was simple, was it? It just could never be fucking simple.

* * *

The next day the Killjoys took stock of everything they could bring on the tour. With the storage on the bus they could fit far more weapons than usual, though Kobra voiced some concern about relying too heavily on the bus. Tango agreed with him, noting that they could give the Killjoys backpacks full of useful items to carry on the cycles. They put the bags together with the essentials they could need in a pinch; a flare gun, two smoke grenades, an extra laser gun, sand goggles, and a radio. With all that in each of the four backpacks, the Killjoys decided it was probably safe to officially start the tour. 

With Show Pony’s blessing, the Killjoys started packing up the bus. The cycles were stashed in the bedroom of the bus, not totally the best place if they had to be used in a pinch, but better than trying to affix them to the side of the bus. After he wheeled the last one back, Poison lingered in the recording studio and stared at the painting. Memories shoved their way back into his head and he let them. He couldn’t place the overwhelming feeling that was coming over him as he thought about that night, but he was terrified when he realized it wasn’t guilt. Not anymore. Ghoul wasn’t mad at him, somehow, and for some reason that meant he didn’t need to feel bad about it anymore. But that was scary, because the more he thought about it, the less he felt like it was a mistake. Maybe it was the room, maybe it was the painting, maybe it was the way Tango’s kisses had felt on his scars, maybe it was the lack of sleep he’d been getting recently, but he was starting to feel real messed up in the head. Finally, he shook his head and left the studio to go back outside the bus, where Kobra was giving the band his briefing on the plan.

“So,” Kobra started, pointing to the map he’d taped to the side of the bus. “The first venue is the diner. It’ll probably be one of the safer shows we’re going to play. The concert will be outside, of course, and the diner will be used as our after show venue. Me and the other Killjoys will be running a perimeter around the diner, watching the highway closest to the city and the one to the east as well. After the show, we gotta pack everything up as fast as we can, since noise can draw unwanted attention.”

“What if it’s quiet afterword?” Tango asked, raising his hand. Kobra raised an eyebrow at him. “Like, can we party? The diner is no fun if we can’t party with people after.”

“If it’s quiet,” Kobra emphasized, “then fine. We can stay and make drinks for people. But we really can’t stay in that area too long, it’s still in Zone 1.”

“I’ll take it,” Tango said with a smile and a shrug.

“After that show, we’ll head toward the Zone 2 gas station.” Kobra pointed to the cross roads. “This will be where we use the cycles we stole. We’ll have one Killjoy each per road with a cycle, waiting with a flair to signal if dracs show up. That show will be more volatile, we’ll need a less cumbersome setup so that we can pack up quickly if we need to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“We have some quick-folding stage platforms that will work fine for that,” Punk reassured. “It’ll probably be more dangerous with the crowd, though.”

“We’ll have to think of something for that,” Kobra said, making a mental note. “Anyway, then the next is the Zone 4 gas station. We shouldn’t have any trouble out there, and it’s right near the Oblivion in case something does happen.”

Kobra took the map down, folding it up.

“That’s really all I have right now. Me and the guys will come up with security plans for the rest of the shows, but until then we should get on the move. People already know about the shows, I assume?” Kobra asked, turning to Punk.

“Yep,” Mania said from next to Punk, forcing Kobra to talk to him instead. “Show Pony agreed to broadcast the list for us, so there should be people ready to line up at the shows to buy tickets.”

“I have a question,” Ghoul said suddenly, raising his hand slightly. “What are people going to be paying us in? Like, carbons or what?”

“They have the option to pay in carbons if they’re from the city,” Punk said, “or in gasoline if they’re from the zones.”

“Ah, see that was my other question,” Ghoul said, nodding. “How are we keeping the bus running for so long without pit-stops. Not a surprise that you guys thought of that already.”

“You guys can be payed in other stuff, if you want,” Mania said, noticing Poison wearing the old tour shirt. “We have merch and stuff you guys could have.”

“I’m good,” Kobra said curtly, taking the map inside the bus.

“I will gladly take some merch, thank you,” Ghoul said, stepping onto the bus as well.

“Free shows and free merch sounds like a hell of a good deal to me,” Jet said with a smile, following the others onto the bus.

Mania, Punk, and Tango followed them. Inside, they did a final check that they had everything they needed before firing up the engine and finally heading out of the parking lot.

* * *

Poison found himself very lucky that Tango was their driver. It meant that, despite being in a confined space with a bunch of people, he wouldn’t actually have to talk to Tango too much. 

The front room had enough room to relax during the drive, though still felt cramped if more than one person was walking at a time. Jet was sat between Mania and Punk once they all settled down, watching something the Killjoys had brought with them on the clunky CRT the band had stashed in one of the overhead cupboards. The bus had a BL/ind standard flatscreen, but it wasn’t compatible with the obsolete media they had (VHS tapes and DVDs). Kobra was in his newly assigned bunk, which he had pulled closed. Ghoul was checking out the studio and storage bedroom, and Poison was following him around.

There wasn’t much for them to do on the road, so Ghoul was messing around with some of the instruments they had in the studio. Poison sat on the couch in that room, watching Ghoul teach himself to play the guitar and thinking way too fucking much.

“Hey,” Ghoul said suddenly. He’d stopped playing and looked up at Poison. “Are you okay?”

“Tired, I think,” Poison said, sighing. He shook his head and crossed his arms, laying his head back and shutting his eyes. “Pretty fucking tired.”

Ghoul said nothing, but something burned in his chest as he noticed a healing hickey on Poison’s jaw. It was jealousy, he realized, as he looked back down at the guitar in his hands. He strummed a chord, then picked a short verse. He tried to shove down his jealousy. He wasn’t mad, he reminded himself, not at Poison. He refused to be mad at him, if he was mad at him then Poison would feel worse. He already regretted it, there was no reason to make a big deal out of it. Ghoul let what he was playing die off, realizing that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt. He still felt like something that was his had been taken, something that he’d had was shared with someone undeserving. His jaw tightened as he played a sour chord.

Poison looked at him then, slightly jarred by the wrong notes played angrily. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ghoul sighed. He set the guitar down and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I think I’m tired, too.”

“Wanna take a nap?” Poison hopped up from the couch and walked over to him.

“Maybe.” Ghoul hugged Poison around his middle, pressing his face against Poison’s stomach. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t upset, he didn’t want to be. Poison was still his, but not in the gross possessive way. They were still good, nothing was ruined, he wouldn’t let it be. He sighed when Poison started running his fingers through his hair.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Poison almost whispered, so needlessly quiet.

“I don’t know,” Ghoul said truthfully. “I think…”

“What?” Poison moved the hair out of Ghoul’s face and tilted his head up to look at him.

“I think I’m jealous.” Ghoul stared into Poison’s hazel eyes, memorizing the patterns inside his irises.

“Jealous?” Poison leaned down and kissed him. “But we talked before…”

“I’m not mad,” Ghoul reassured, closing his eyes and feeling Poison’s soft fingers brush over his cheeks. “But I think I’m jealous.”

“You have no reason to be,” Poison said, his voice changing noticeably. Ghoul opened his eyes too stare at him. “He’s got nothing on you, baby.”

Ghoul’s stomach flipped, and he lifted himself up to catch Poison in another kiss. Poison kept the kiss soft, nothing intense. He combed his fingers through Ghoul’s hair again, smiling against his lips when he felt Ghoul shiver slightly.

“Let’s go take a nap,” Poison said once he pulled away. “It’s been kind of chaotic recently, I think we should rest up in case something happens.”

“Okay,” Ghoul agreed, nodding slightly. It hadn’t been a crazy make out session, but he felt breathless. He reminded himself that Poison did that for him and only him, made him breathless. Repeatedly. It didn’t even need to be something big, the smallest things Poison did left him breathless.

They walked back out to the bunks, crawling into the one across from Kobra together and shutting the curtain. The bunks were roomy for one person, and almost cramped for two people. They kept their arms wound around each other, feeling the bus jostle lightly around them. Ghoul fell asleep first, like he always did. Poison kept combing his fingers through Ghoul’s hair for a while after that, trying to get himself to fall asleep, which he did eventually. He fell asleep with his nose pressed against Ghoul’s forehead.

* * *

“So,” Jet started quietly. He had moved from the front room to the studio, Kobra wandering in a while later with their security plans. They’d been sitting silently for a while, but Jet had to talk to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask, since you apparently never told me, but what’s your deal with the Mad Gear and Missile Kid?”

Kobra, usually one to shut down when asked about his past, sighed deeply and slumped over himself on the couch. Jet raised an eyebrow at him. They’d been Killjoys the longest, the very earliest being Jet. They used to tell each other everything because of that. Truthfully, they were the only person the other trusted. Dr. Death was trustable, of course, but he sometimes went off on secret missions like the one he was on now. He told them he could never tell them what he was doing, only reassuring that it wasn’t work for BLI. Kobra very early on found that he only trusted Jet Star, refusing to let anyone else in on his past. Poison was the first outsider to ever crack Kobra’s shell. They’d been so alike from the beginning, and they’d only grown closer since then. They acted like brothers now. Kobra and Jet were almost like that, too. But their relationship was more like… Like two soldiers from the same war but different platoons. 

“I used to be their bassist,” Kobra said suddenly, surprising Jet. He truly hadn’t expected Kobra to open up to him about it. “It was just them two, Mania and Punk, but they had a backup band before. It was really just a drummer and the bassist, me. Mania played guitar and Punk just sang. Now Mania plays bass and Punk plays guitar and they just play a drum track.”

“You were their bassist?” Jet came over to sit next to Kobra on the couch. “What was that like?”

“That matters less than why I was their bassist,” Kobra sighed, leaning over to rest his head on Jet’s shoulder. Jet noticed he looked really fucking tired despite having taken a nap. “I dated Mania.”

“What?” Jet shifted to put his arm up and around Kobra’s shoulders, settling them together back into the couch.

“Yeah.” Kobra folded the papers he’d been looking through and tossed them to the side. “I… He was a lot.”

“He seems…” Jet trailed off.

“Yeah,” Kobra repeated. “He’s been all but brainwashed by Bat City. Poor guy… But I’m the moron who thought I could… I don’t know, heal him? Or something?”

“You’re a kind-hearted guy,” Jet said, patting his shoulder. “You want to help people.”

“I do.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them. “I thought I could help him see things how they really were. Though that if I could- ugh, I don’t know, if I could love him then he would understand what it really was. But he doesn’t understand, he never has, and he never will.”

“You know, you can’t make yourself love someone, either,” Jet said, noting how he’d worded that.

“I know, I realized that after a while,” Kobra huffed. He dropped his hands back into his lap. “I realized I was trying so hard to convince myself that I loved him. Then, when I finally broke it off, he thought that I’d just stopped loving him. I hated how that felt…”

“You can’t control what he thinks.”

“I know but it’s still annoying.” Kobra relaxed into Jet’s hold finally. “It still hurts.”

“I understand that.” Jet rested the side of his head against Kobra’s. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but before the Killjoys… Before the zones, really, I had a wife.”

“What?” Kobra tilted his head up to look at Jet.

“Yeah. She was- fuck, she was everything to me.” Jet was lost in his memories. “I lived in the inner city, so life was way less shitty than it could’ve been for us. She did online work as a bank teller, I went out every day working as the guy who refills the vending machines.”

Kobra stared at him while he spoke. This was the first time he’d heard this.

“She loved her job, and I honestly loved mine, too.” Jet’s face fell a little. “But you know Bat City. It takes what you love from you.”

“What happened?” Kobra asked softly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“She got pregnant.” Jet’s voice broke. Kobra’s heart broke too. He knew what that meant.

“Jet, I’m so sorry,” Kobra said, shifting to hug Jet tight.

“They fucking-” Jet cried into Kobra’s shoulder. “Fuck. They fucking took her away from me, they swore she would be okay, swore I could have her back, they-”

“Jet, shh, stop.” Kobra squeezed him tight. “Stop reliving it.”

Jet sobbed and hiccuped, jaw clenched as he tried to wipe his mind of the memory. The guards who had come, tore her away from him, the people in suits who promised him lies, the different people in different suits that had unceremoniously told him his wife had died giving birth. The way his life had shattered in one year. The guy who told him he was still expected at work, whose jaw he broke.

“Jet,” Kobra said again, shaking him slightly.

Jet shook, sobbing again. “I fucking miss her.”

“I know.” Kobra held him there, helping him calm down. 

Jet had finally evened out his breathing when Mania had suddenly come into the room. He was quiet at first, but then scoffed slightly.

“Did you move on already?” Mania said snidely, crossing his arms.

Kobra said nothing as he stood, quickly crossed the room, and gave Mania a taste of what his words felt like. A swift right hook to the jaw.

“Ow! What the fuck!” Mania shouted, stumbling back against the wall.

“You shut your fucking mouth about shit you don’t understand,” Kobra growled. It was something Mania had never heard before, so it did actually shut him up for once. “Think for more than three fucking seconds about the shit you say before you let it drip out of your mouth. You don’t know us, you still don’t know me, and you never fucking will. Asshole.”

Kobra stormed out then, still fuming. Jet blinked at Mania for a moment before slowly standing up and following Kobra out of the room.

* * *

They pulled up to the diner by the time the air outside felt boiling. The sun wasn’t at its highest, but it was at its hottest. They’d turned on the air conditioner in the bus after they parked. It hummed to life and stuttered every now and then, but it brought the bus down a few degrees, and everyone was thankful for that. 

Recently the diner had been used by the Killjoys, mostly as a catch-all. But even more recently, they’d started migrating the things they kept there back to the radio tower. Kept the place less messy.

When they stepped out into the sun after parking, they all had to resist the urge to go back into the bus and out of the heat. Tango stretched a bit, having been cramped up in the front of the bus driving the whole time. Mania and Punk went straight into the diner to get out of the sun and decide how they wanted their stage to look. Jet pulled out a sensor to check the area for BLI activity, conferring with Kobra about something. Ghoul and Poison stayed on the bus, not willing to let go of the cooler air just yet.

“So, the stage will face the diner, right?” Kobra asked through one of the broken windows of the diner.

“That’s the plan, yeah,” Punk answered, holding up their crude drawing of the stage. “That way some people can be inside, having drinks already, and then the majority of the crowd can be outside watching.”

“How many people do you think are going to show up?” Jet asked. “You know, since you have lots of fans from inside the city and out here in the zones.”

“Um…” Punk thought it over. “A few hundred?”

Kobra’s sunglasses slipped down his nose, revealing his drawn eyebrows and wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I mean… Maybe… A thousand at most?” Punk said sheepishly.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Kobra ran a hand through his hair and walked back toward the bus. “That’s- why didn’t we-”

“Kobra,” Jet said, walking after him.

“We should’ve asked that earlier,” Kobra said grimly. “We can’t handle that. We need at least- a least ten more people to- oh my god.”

“Kobra, calm down,” Jet said stopping him from pacing. “Breathe, dude.”

Kobra stared at him intensely, taking a deep breath. 

“It’ll be okay. Zoners aren’t idiots. They know that a concert is a neutral space, like the Nest. If we lay down the ground rules, people will listen to us.” Jet shook Kobra’s shoulders slightly. “Try not to overwhelm yourself thinking about it, okay?”

Kobra nodded, huffing out the deep breath he’d held. 

“Let’s mark down where the stage should go and make sure the diner has the shit it needs to accommodate that many people.”

Kobra nodded again and went with him to the outside cargo compartments of the bus.

Inside the bus, Poison and Ghoul were taking stock of the merch that the band had saved up. Poison had had the idea to sell some of the merch, not only to make some extra gas or carbons but also to free up space in the back of the bus. Maybe if they cleaned out the bedroom, he figured, they could take turns using it. There was a perfectly intact mattress back there, with all its springs still inside and everything. Ghoul agreed that it would be worth cleaning out the room for. So, they were taking some of the boxes out from the bedroom. Or, Poison was. Ghoul was “helping,” which meant he was just staring at Poison’s butt and letting his boyfriend get all sweaty from doing physical labor.

“You could help, you know,” Poison grumbled, stacking another box of t-shirts. 

“I am,” Ghoul said easily, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall of the studio, next to the bedroom door. “Boosting morale.”

Poison rolled his eyes and went back to work. Eventually he’d taken out seven boxes from the room, all full of unsold t-shirts from their last tour.

“What are you doing?” Tango asked. He’d come into the studio, raising his eyebrows at the stacks of boxes.

“I figured we could get rid of some of this old tour stuff,” Poison said, still catching his breath. “Make some extra money, and some extra room.”

“I guess we can do that,” Tango agreed, nodding. “Not like we’re doing anything with the old tour merch. Did you do all this by yourself?”

He’d looked at Ghoul when he asked that, noting him being not covered in a layer of sweat, panting like he’d run a marathon.

“Yeah,” Poison said with a pointed glare toward Ghoul. “It’s fine, though. It’s just the heat. The boxes aren’t really heavy.”

“Yeah well, they are for those of us without mechanical strength,” Tango said, straining to pick up one box to take outside.

Ghoul silently hugged Poison around his middle from behind, purposefully not saying anything. He didn’t trust himself not to get pissy right now. While he hadn’t done any heavy lifting like Poison, the heat still put him in a bad mood. He tensed as he realized the studio was probably where Poison and Tango had- well, cheated. He hugged Poison a little tighter, ignoring the raised eyebrow coming from him.

* * *

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Tango asked Kobra from where he sat in one of the diner’s booths. The sun was starting to go down. People were going to start showing up soon.

“The plan,” Kobra started, thankful that Tango had effectively shut the rest of their group up, “is to start setting up the stage as soon as we can. I want two people on the roof watching the highways, two people outside watching the crowds from the stage, and one person working the diner. Who’s going to be roof team?”

“Me!” Poison shouted. He was a bit further from Kobra, in one of the corner booths, but it was still too loud. “I have special eyes.”

“Yes you do,” Kobra said, smiling slightly. “Anyone else on roof team?”

“Me?” Tango raised his hand when Ghoul didn’t. “I’ve got some high-powered binoculars I haven’t gotten to try out yet.”

“I’d actually rather you be on the stage team,” Mania piped up. “You’re a good bouncer.”

“What does bouncing have to do with security?” Jet asked, looking very confused.

“A bouncer is a security guard,” Ghoul and Mania both said in unison. They stared at each other for a moment before Ghoul continued, “they’re usually guards for clubs or concerts.”

“I’ll be on team roof,” Jet said, shrugging and raising his hand. “But I want to borrow those binoculars.”

“Sure, dude,” Tango said with a slightly tight smile. Behind him in the next booth over, Ghoul snickered to himself.

“Okay, so that’s Jet and Poison on the roof.” Kobra made a quick note on his small notepad. “Let’s do Tango and Ghoul for stage.”

“What?” Ghoul said, smile suddenly gone from his face. “Why don’t you work the stage?”

“Because, I’m a twig,” Kobra said. He definitely didn’t just want to be as far away from Mania as possible. “You’re gonna be way better at keeping crazy fans away from the stage. I’ll work the diner.”

Ghoul closed his mouth and bit his lip. “Fine.”

It was Tango’s turn to snicker.

“Alright, so we have our teams,” Kobra said, clapping his hands. “Let’s go set up the stage.”

* * *

People were finally showing up, first in groups, then in droves. They’d already gotten the rules down for the show: don’t be an asshole, and have fun. Kobra was selling tickets and serving free pre-show drinks inside the diner, made from old alcohol and expired cleaning products (they assumed after a while they lost their toxicity… No word yet on how accurate that is). Poison and Jet were keeping an eye on the horizons, keeping tabs on anything that moved and made sure the highways were clear. Mania and Punk had set up their stage and were getting ready on the bus, leaving Tango and Ghoul to stand by the stage and wait for the show to start.

Ghoul was trying to ignore the fact that he’d missed his chance to hang out with Poison from a perfect vantage point to watch the concert. Trying to ignore the fact that he had to now spend the first concert of the tour facing away from the action and getting sweated and spat on by ravenous fans. Trying to ignore Tango and his glances he kept throwing his way. Like he expected something to happen. Maybe something would, Ghoul thought, if he kept being annoying like he had been. 

“How ya feelin’?” Tango asked suddenly, bumping his shoulder against Ghoul’s. For a moment, white hot fury coursed through his veins and then it was gone in a millisecond. It was the weirdest reaction Ghoul had ever had to a person, so he ignored it.

“Kinda tired already,” Ghoul said. 

“Me too,” Tango said, nodding. “Drove half the day, now I gotta be a bouncer for a loud-ass concert for hours? Can’t wait to take a fuckin’ nap, man.”

“Who’s going to drive?” Ghoul asked, frowning. He hadn’t thought about that. He wondered if Kobra had.

“Probably Kid or one of you guys,” Tango said dismissively. “It’s not a far drive, though, the next venue. If you guys aren’t comfortable with the bus, I can drive us there.”

“You deserve a break,” Ghoul said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll drive.”

“You think you can drive the bus?” Tango asked, not teasingly or anything, just truly curious.

“Well, Poison sure as fuck isn’t allowed to,” Ghoul declared. “He’s a Crash Queen, through and through. He’d flip the fucking thing.”

Tango laughed, throwing his head back slightly. “I wouldn’t have taken him for a Crash Queen. A racer, sure, but not, you know.”

“He’s determined to die in a car crash.” Ghoul’s eyes glazed a bit with the memories that were so very unwelcome after all this time. He shook his head slightly, coming back to himself and then furrowing his brows. How did Tango know Poison was a racer? Fuck it, Ghoul thought, let’s start this conversation now. “How’d you know that?”

Tango stopped smiling, paling slightly. He shifted on his feet a little, then his confidence seemed to come rushing back to puff his chest back out. “Poison told me. I noticed his wicked scar on his- well, around his torso.”

“And that didn’t clue you in on him being a Crash Queen?” Ghoul deadpanned. That cracked the tense atmosphere, Tango laughing again.

“I guess it should’ve.” Tango sighed and looked out at the crowd of people waiting for the show to start. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve been on security.”

“Really?” Ghoul wasn’t interested. “What’d you do before driving them around, then?”

“Pyro.” Tango looked very proud of this.

“Ah. I can appreciate that,” Ghoul said with a small smile. “Poison likes setting stuff on fire, I enjoy blowing shit up.”

“You make a great pair,” Tango said lightly.

“We do.” Ghoul let the emphasis carry the weight of the world. Tango quieted, looking down at his boots.

“I regret it, too, you know?” Tango asked quietly, shoving the tip of his boot into the dirt.

“Good.” Ghoul’s response was sharp, unforgiving.

“I used him-”

“Poison said the same thing.” Ghoul decided he did not, in fact, want to have this conversation now. “It’s- I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Tango peeked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m really sorry.”

“Are you?” Ghoul wasn’t looking at him, but he drew his eyebrows together and pursed his lips at the crowd still growing. “Because you seem just as flirtatious as usual.”

“I’m trying to act-”

“Normal? So you’re this flirty to every security team you have?” Ghoul glared at him slightly. “Or was fucking my fucking boyfriend not fucking enough for you?”

Tango closed his mouth, looking like he felt really guilty. Good, Ghoul thought angrily.

“Listen, I didn’t want to be the jealous boyfriend, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go near him anymore,” Ghoul said, finally letting the sentence go from its cage. 

Tango was quiet a long moment, then looked up defiantly and said, “No.”

“Excuse me?” Ghoul turned to him fully. 

Just then, the crowd exploded in cheers. Punk and Mania had come off the bus, waving their hands and instruments to their fans. Ghoul wanted to talk more with Tango about what he’d just said, but they had to stand on opposite sides of the stage. He was fuming, though.

* * *

The show started not long after the sun fully set. Poison had watched whatever exchange had happened between Ghoul and Tango, hoping whatever they’d said had been civil. He was worried Ghoul’s jealousy was building. 

Jet checked the highways one last time, then sat down on the dead air conditioner and sighed. 

“This is actually kind of boring,” Jet said.

“Yeah,” Poison nodded, sitting on the floor next to him. “Not a whole lot to do as lookouts except looking out.”

“How’ve you been?” Jet asked, eyeing Poison.

“Uh.” Poison blinked. He hadn’t told anyone else about what was going on. That, he realized, was way out of character for him. “I- well, to be honest Jet, I’ve been really stupid.”

“But like nothing new?” Jet joked, earning himself a punch to the leg. He laughed. “I’m sorry, how so?”

“I… I cheated on Ghoul.”

Jet went quiet instantly. “Why?”

“I-” Poison ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “I was emotional. Tango and I were talking about some heavy stuff and-”

“You cheated with Tango?”

“Uh, yeah…” Poison cringed. “I was stupid. I used him.”

“You regret it, though.” It was a statement.

“I do…” Poison groaned. “But I- it’s less and less? Lately? Like, I do regret it, but not as much as I- not-”

“Not as much as you thought you would?” Jet finished for him grimly.

“Yeah! Yeah…” Poison looked guilty. “I don’t know, it was- man, I hope this isn’t weird for you-”

“-it’s not-”

“-but it was really good sex. Like, it was on the floor, sure, but- and I feel really bad for saying this, but it was like nothing else.”

“Well, every partner is different.” Jet was trying to find an upside to this, something to make Poison feel better. “Uh, you know. You’ve only ever been with two people and one was absolute shit of a person.”

“Right…” Poison stared at the floor of the roof. He’d only been with two people. That was an interesting realization.

“What I mean is, it’s probably just because he was a new experience,” Jet offered. “Like, he was different, therefore your brain latched onto that since, and correct me if I’m wrong but, most of the sex you have with Ghoul is the same. Or at least with the same person, you know?”

“I think I do, yeah…” Poison rested his head in his hands, sighing. “I don’t know. I’m starting to wonder-…” 

“What?”

“I’m starting to wonder why I’m dating Ghoul.”

Jet didn’t like that one bit. Dr. Death’s letter made it sound like something catastrophic was going to happen, and this was the perfect storm to be just that. If they broke up the Killjoys would be in serious trouble. But the more he thought about it, the more Jet realized he kind of had a point. Why were they dating in the first place? They’d built trust and respect for each other after Poison’s car accident, but was that all that had brought them together? 

Poison looked out at the crowd. “My head’s all fucked up.”

“Do you find him attractive?” Jet asked, trying to figure out something, anything, that could keep them together.

“Of course,” Poison scoffed. 

“Physically? Mentally? Emotionally?” Jet pressed, biting the inside of his cheek.

Poison paused, looking thoughtful. “Physically. Mentally. And emotionally, yeah.”

“Can you see yourself being with him forever?” Jet remembered feeling that toward his wife. That was one of those things that happened when you found your person, the one you wanted to be with. You could look at them and see only them. If you found them in a crowd, everyone else melted away, and it was just them. You could feel it in your bones, “this is who I want to be with when I die, this is who I want to die with” would repeat in your head late at night when you felt existential.

“I-…” Poison blinked. He looked at Ghoul in the crowd of people swarming the stage. Did he want to be with Ghoul forever? Did he even know what that looked like? “I don’t…”

“Where do you see yourself when you die?” Jet asked. He remembered thinking about how he wanted to be by his wife’s side when he died, though she had always told him he wasn’t allowed to die first and leave her alone. She told him he had to die long after her, with their child to live with until his time. His heart still ached for a future that would never be…

“In a race,” Poison said without hesitation, making Jet’s eyes widen in concern. “I want to die with the wind in my hair and that portrait that’s only viewable at two hundred miles an hour. There’s nothing better than that.”

“Nothing?” Jet drew his eyebrows together. “Not even being with Ghoul?”

Poison was quiet, staring out at the crowd. No, he thought. Not even that.

* * *

The show was insane. It was the first in a while that the Mad Gear and Missile Kid had done outside the city, so many zoners had gathered to see it. Mania and Punk put on a hell of a show, too. Tango and Ghoul had to keep multiple fans from climbing on stage throughout the night, but it was all in good fun. Nobody broke the rules and everyone paid to be there in one way or another. 

Once the show was over, Poison and Jet watched the city for a while to make sure they’d been ignored. When it seemed like they had, they climbed down from the rooftop and joined the many people who had chosen to stay after the show and have drinks and meet the band. 

Many of the zoners, Kobra figured the vast majority, already knew who the Killjoys were. People they’d never met told them about how much of an inspiration they were. It was the first time Kobra really felt like they were making a difference in the zones. 

The longer it was quiet, the less tense everyone got. Kobra was serving drinks to people and having good conversations, Jet and Poison had come down from their watch on the roof to join everyone, and there was even a group of people helping to take down the stage and pack it back up into the bus. Ghoul and Tango were doing that too, though avoiding each other as much as possible after their conversation. Ghoul wasn’t done talking to him yet, but for now he would do his job and nothing else.

Eventually, everyone ended up inside the diner. It was far too late for any of them to be up and partying, but it was the first show of the tour, so people (Mania and Punk included) wanted to celebrate. And it was over these probably dangerous drinks that the Killjoys sat down to have drunk conversations with each other and the band.

“I wish we had flavored syrup,” Mania whined, staring into his cup. “I’d kill a man for a cherry drink.”

“There’s probably cherry soda somewhere in here,” Jet offered halfheartedly. He was starting to get tired. 

“It’s not the same,” Mania said dramatically, tipping back the rest of his drink and downing it.

“Tango,” Ghoul said as he sat down in the circular booth next to Poison. “We needta talk.”

“Oh, we do?” Tango teased.

“We do,” Ghoul grumbled. “You stay the fuck away from my boyfriend.”

Poison stared at him, eyes bugging out a little. He was already very drunk, and he’d just remembered he was Ghoul’s boyfriend.

“How about you stop treating him like your property,” Tango said angrily. “He’s not a car with a new paint job, he’s a fucking person.”

“I know that,” Ghoul snapped. “He’s a fucking person who’s supposed to be fucking me, not you.”

“Dad, please don’t talk about mom that way,” Jet said tiredly, pouring more old vodka into his cup.

“I thought we were mom and dad?” Kobra said, squinting at the table.

“I think you need to back the fuck off,” Tango said loudly, pointing over the table in Ghoul’s face.

“I need to back off?” Ghoul raged. “You’re the one who fucked my boyfriend behind my back!”

“He’s the one who wanted to!” Tango shouted back, bearing his teeth. “You think I showed him around the bus with the intention of getting in his pants?!”

“I think you shouldn’t have taken advantage of him like you did!” Ghoul slammed his drink on the table. “You’re a fucking asshole flirt who had your greedy little eyes on him since we met you guys!”

“I didn’t take advantage of him!” Tango looked furious at the notion. “We had a heated conversation, it went too far, but ultimately he was the one who wanted to take it farther! I agree that it was a mistake, but don’t go calling me a fucking rapist!”

The table was silent. The diner was quieter, most of the people had left by the time their argument was blowing up. The people that were left were too drunk to care. Mania and Punk were sipping their drinks silently, praying they would wake up with this information voided from their minds. Jet and Kobra were just tired of the yelling. Poison looked like he was about to throw up.

Suddenly, Poison climbed up and out of the booth, stumbling over to the next one to get out and run out of the diner.

“Poison!” Ghoul called after him, feeling something like guilt stab his chest. He went to follow him, but Kobra slapped a hand on his shoulder and glared at him. He sat back down and watched Kobra run after Poison.

Outside, Poison was heaving breaths by the dumpsters. Kobra ran around the building and found him there, having a panic attack.

He didn’t say anything, he just walked over and hugged him. Poison clung to Kobra tightly. Trembling and still breathing heavy. Then, he pulled back roughly and stumbled to the side, where he finally threw up. Kobra rubbed his back as he doubled over, pulling his shirt up over his nose to mask the smell.

Poison shook as he retched, sweat prickling all over his skin. He’d never thrown up like this before, it was awful. There were actual nutrients he was losing this time, it wasn’t like before he’d had a more realistic stomach. No matter how much came up, though, nothing made the black pit in his stomach go away.

When he finally stopped vomiting, Kobra pulled him away from the dumpsters to go inside through the back door. Just inside the back entrance were the bathrooms, where they went to clean up. Poison washed his face and mouth, willing the taste of bile to leave his throat. Kobra spot-cleaned Poison’s shirt and jeans where vomit had splattered. When they were both done, Poison sat on the dirty floor against the wall, Kobra sitting opposite him against the sink.

“Are you okay?” Kobra asked. He nudged Poison’s shoe with his own.

“I don’t know,” Poison answered honestly. His voice was shot, his throat hurt. “That was too much.”

“The drinks or the conversation?”

“Both.” Poison felt his stomach twist angrily. He winced. “Both…”

Kobra felt bad for him. The drama that had just gone down, regardless of everyone’s levels of drunkenness, was a lot to handle. 

“I feel terrible,” Poison said, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I can see that,” Kobra said, chuckling.

“No, I mean- I feel like shit because I- I-I don’t know if I love Ghoul anymore.” Poison looked up at Kobra, terrified. “I thought I did, I remember when I told him that I did. But I don’t know- I don’t know if I meant it, Kobra. I don’t think I ever meant it.”

“P,” Kobra said, shifting to cross the bathroom and hug him, still sitting on the floor. “Calm down, you’re still drunk.”

“Kobra what if I never loved him?” Poison was crying now, eyes still wide and scared. “What if- w-what if he loves me and I never loved him?”

“Then you’ll tell him,” Kobra said simply, knowing it wasn’t simple at all. “It’s scary to think of, but you’d have to tell him. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

Poison nodded slowly, like Kobra was unveiling the universe to him.

“But P, you’re drunk, you’re tired, and emotions are clearly running hot right now.” Kobra sat back and looked at him. “You don’t have to figure this out right now, or tomorrow, or this week. You should talk to him, though. Not tonight, probably, but at some point.”

Poison nodded, looking down at his lap where he’d folded his hands.

“It’ll be okay,” Kobra added, reaching to squeeze his arm reassuringly.

Poison looked up at him, tear stained face twisted in grief. He’d already decided on what he was going to do, Kobra realized. To Poison, it was just a matter of time. A matter of time before he broke up with Ghoul. He’d already accepted giving up what they had. Kobra felt his heart break a little at the realization, letting out a small sigh. This was what Dr. D had been warning them about. It had to happen, Kobra knew that. And he knew he couldn’t side with Poison. That was wrecking him inside, because Poison was like his brother. He didn’t want to be on any side but his, but he couldn’t. He had to keep the Killjoys together. Again.

* * *

Poison woke up with a splitting headache. Apparently droids still needed water, because not only did he have a hangover headache, but his mouth was like sandpaper. As he pushed himself up, he whacked his head on the ceiling, forcing him back down as he shouted in surprise. He was in his bunk, he remembered not soon enough, just as he rolled to his side and out onto the floor, falling a couple feet.

“Augh, fuck!” He shouted. He’d slammed his nose on the floor, already feeling blood seep out of it.

“You okay back there?” Someone called, possibly Jet.

Poison didn’t answer as he forced his sore muscles to push himself up onto his knees. He stared down at the bus’s floor as his blood dripped onto it. He sighed.

“You good?” Tango asked from behind him, peeking down at him.

Poison looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed and tired, nose bleeding, hair an absolute mess. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Tango held up his hands and backed into the studio room, letting the door swing shut.

Poison huffed, pushing himself vertical. That caused his head to spin and he groaned. He remembered bits and pieces of last night after the show, but the biggest thing that stuck in his head was the conversation he’d had with Kobra. The end of it. The part that mattered. He couldn’t remember why he’d ended up in the bathroom of the diner, but he remembered what he’d left knowing. It was time to end it. All of the relationship shit he was doing, the dating, the cheating, the fighting- it had to stop. Especially because he was the one who had cheated. He was done with it all. That was all he could think as he washed his mouth out, cleaned his bloody nose, and took a freezing shower on the bus. He assumed, since everyone else was awake, they must’ve driven to the next venue.

When he came out into the front room out the bus he found the other Killjoys there. He avoided looking at Ghoul, slipping by to get to the small kitchen area.

“Hey, you’re alive,” Jet said jokingly. “Was worried when you didn’t respond earlier.”

“Didn’t check on me, I noticed,” Poison jabbed back, jokingly as well. He tore open a pack of poptarts. “Let’s not do what we did last night again.”

“Seconded,” Kobra groaned, taking a long drink of his water. “My head’s killing me.”

“I’m sorry,” Ghoul said suddenly, staring at Poison. “I’m sorry about last night, what I said, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” Poison drew his eyebrows together. “I’ll be honest, I don’t totally remember everything from last night.”

“I- I fought with Tango about you,” Ghoul said, only hesitating for a moment. He was surrounded by his family, he didn’t have to be afraid of being honest. “I was being a dick, I wanted to pick a fight. I know we already talked about it, but I felt jealous. I felt- threatened, I guess.”

Last time they had this conversation, Poison had comforted Ghoul. He’d told him Tango had nothing on him, that he shouldn’t feel jealous. This time, Poison nodded, and said,

“Thanks for apologizing.”

Ghoul blinked. His heart rate kicked up slightly.

“I don’t think it’s fair to you, to wait to talk about this with you,” Poison said, sounding more calm than ever. “I think we should break up.”

Ghoul felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, then forced air into his lungs, sitting up straighter. Jet and Kobra weren’t saying anything, weren’t looking at them, but they were terrified. This was the moment everything broke. Ghoul looked at Poison with all the love he had for him in his eyes and said, “Okay.”

Poison nodded, looking down at his poptarts. He felt hollow. “I’m gonna start checking the highways for tonight’s show.”

“Sounds good,” Ghoul said, feeling his throat closing up.

Poison nodded again, then left the bus.

As soon as the door shut, Ghoul let his chest collapse, coughing out his air and letting the tears fall from his eyes. Instantly, Jet hugged him from where he sat beside him. He covered his face, sobbing and shaking against Jet’s side. Kobra wanted so badly to run after Poison, to talk to him about it, to convince him not to do what he’d just done, but Dr. Death’s voice crashed through his head. _Stick by Fun Ghoul_. Whatever had to happen was happening, whether they wanted it to or not.

* * *

The streets were clear, as far as Poison could see. He was hardly looking anymore after he’d cleared them. He tried to ignore the nagging pain in his chest, taking breaths, but eventually his emotions caught up to him. He was sad. He let his tears flow freely, sniffling and huffing to himself. 

Emotions were always something different for him, not because he didn’t have them before getting upgraded parts, but because he used to understand how to control them. A command here and there and he felt fine, sorting them literally into a bin or building a code around them to be able to block them. But now, with the new parts from his big surgery, he felt emotions in a way that was probably more human. He couldn’t see his code anymore when he tried to, he could only feel. Anxiety was a flipping in his stomach, sadness was his chest caving in, anger was like the flickering of a lighter in his chest- it was so alien to him. Because of this, he found himself overwhelmed by his emotions way more often. He couldn’t turn off bodily responses anymore either; his face got red when he was angry or embarrassed, his hands got cold and clammy when he was anxious, and for some reason he would never understand he got the shivers when he had to piss. All of these were involuntary and fucking annoying. 

Caught in his thoughts and emotions, Poison didn’t hear Tango come up behind him until he had a hand on his shoulder.

“P, you okay?” Tango asked, leaning around him a little to see his face. “Are you crying?”

“I’m fine.” Poison was short with him, pulling his shoulder away and rubbing his eyes. He didn’t want to do any of this anymore. He didn’t want to do any kind of relationship shit anymore, no matter the type. “I’m- I n-need a break.”

“Okay,” Tango said, still looking concerned. “You can take a break in the studio, or go back to sleep in your bunk?”

“I-” Poison huffed in frustration. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“Do you want me to come with?” Tango asked, taking a step with him when he went to leave. “Someone to watch your back?”

“Fuck, fine!” Poison shouted suddenly, throwing his hands up. “Do whatever you want! Fuck!”

He stomped off and Tango followed him, cautiously staying out of range of his outbursts.

* * *

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, he is going to be dangerously close to losing focus and giving up altogether.”

Destroya’s voice boomed through the echoing halls around them, though only heard by those allowed.

“If he gives up, the work you have done was worthless.” Destroya sounded almost upset. Almost.

“I’ll talk to him, convince him to-” 

“No. You cannot. It will not end the way you want it to, not the way we need it to.” Destroya sighed, the air shifting as if she were in the room with them.

“What do you mean?! If I tell him what’s at stake, then-” 

“If you tell him what’s at stake, he will become so single-minded that he will lose sight of everything that will help him in the end,” Destroya interrupted, sounding annoyed. “If he knows too much, he will brush you all off, he will forge on to finish it himself, he will sacrifice himself for the greater good without fixing whatever else is broken in his life. He will leave behind broken pieces of his family that must be whole in order to do what we aim to do. I have seen it.”

“… Then how do we make sure he makes the right decision?” 

“You must not return until he decides, firstly,” Destroya sounded like she was thinking hard about this question. “He must be given all the tools, every choice must be clear to him. I may need the assistance of the other protector… He has to know that there is always a last resort.”

“May I ask a question, Destroya?” 

“Of course.”

“How does this end?” 

“As most things in the zones do, my child. With death and a choice.”

* * *

They’d walked far enough that Tango was starting to worry. Poison was not slowing down, either, walking with long strides toward the empty desert. Tango was worried about him, obviously. Everything that had been happening had clearly culminated in something, or was about to. Tango would be lying if he said he didn’t want to try and solve the case, be that old habits or his stupid crush.

“Poison,” Tango said, voice tangling in the desert wind. “What’s going on?”

Poison didn’t answer him, keeping his pace.

“Where are we going?”

Again, no answer. 

Tango huffed, taking fast steps to catch up to him and grab his arm. “What’s going on with you?”

“Stop, just-” Poison twisted to free his arm, but Tango pulled him in for a hug.

“What’s wrong?”

Poison felt the telltale snap of sadness in his chest, this time like a rubber band failing to do its job and letting a huge roll of papers explode everywhere. Tears formed in his eyes and he felt angry, fire flickering in his chest against his will.

“P?” Tango stood back slightly, just enough to take his face in his hands.

“I fucking hate feeling things,” Poison spat, staring at the ground through his tears.

Tango was about to laugh or make a comment like “me too” but stopped when he saw the torment clear on Poison’s face.

“It’s never been like this before,” Poison sobbed, scrubbing his face. “Feelings have never felt this- intense and visceral.”

Tango understood what was happening. His untampered-with model was one before major emotion emulators and processors. He was never meant to feel like this.

“With all this stuff, it’s like- it’s like my heart is being rubbed raw.” Poison leaned on Tango, hiding his face in his neck. “It hurts so much after a while.”

“That’s just how feelings are,” Tango said, holding Poison around his middle. “I’m sorry, it’s not easy.”

Poison whined. “I want to go back, I want to be like I was before.”

“You can’t.” Tango was lying. Of course those emulators and processors could be removed, but at what fucking cost? Loss of humanity, loss of personality, loss of- loss of Poison. Feelings were essential to one’s humanity, Tango was in the business of fixing droids, not turning them back into doorstops. “But you’re not alone, you’re less alone than you’ve ever been, you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Poison squished his face into Tango’s neck angrily. “That’s not the point. There’s too many feelings, too many- relationships. They all make me feel different things. It would be easier if there were less of them.”

“That’s not how life works.” Tango glanced around the sky, just in case. “P, you can’t just erase your emotions.”

Poison made a frustrated noise.

“You have to deal with them. They’re not as scary as they seem.”

“They’re not scary, they’re annoying,” Poison griped.

“Well, why are they annoying?”

“Because I can’t control them!”

“But you can,” Tango pulled him back to search his face. “Just not the way you’re used to.”

“How?” Poison looked pitiful, his face tear-stained, frowning like a child, his bottom lip jutting out.

“One breath at a time,” Tango said, taking a deep breath.

Poison did the same. They exhaled together and sat in silence a moment.

“Sometimes breathing is all you need.” Tango put a hand on Poison’s chest. “Feel it here, one breath.”

Poison inhaled, expanding his chest, then exhaled.

“Now feel it here,” Tango said, moving his hand to Poison’s stomach.

He took another breath, this time letting his stomach expand with it, then exhaled.

“How do you feel?”

Poison blinked and thought about it. He felt… better. His head didn’t hurt so much, his chest wasn’t doing any flipping or snapping or flaring. His head was clear for a moment. Then his thoughts came crashing back in, a tidal wave of questions as to how, mechanically, the breathing worked. He took another breath.

“I feel good,” Poison answered, looking at Tango apologetically. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize,” Tango snapped, brashly slapping his hands on Poison’s shoulders.

“S-” Poison caught himself. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

“What the fuck did I do wrong?” Ghoul sobbed, hiding his face behind his knees, tucked into a tight ball on the couch.

Jet didn’t know what to say. He truly hadn’t expected what had just happened. He replayed all the times Poison and Ghoul had spent together in his head. They’d been happy, trusted each other, looked out for the other, got along fine. Then this band rolls around and suddenly… Suddenly it all falls apart? More specifically, Jet thought, Tango came along. Jet didn’t have all the pieces, or hoped he didn’t, because that didn’t make any sense.

Kobra bit the inside of his cheek. He hated all of this. It was fucking ridiculous to him. He got it, because Dr. Death had told him to, and he would do what he had to do. That included staying in the bus with Ghoul and not following Poison into the desert like he wanted to. He wanted to smack Poison upside the head, convince him he was being stupid, tell him to make up with Ghoul right now. He couldn’t though, and he wouldn’t.

He almost did, though, when Tango walked through the room and out the door, like he could tell what had just happened, and it made Kobra’s chest flair with protectiveness for Poison. He reigned himself in, though, not saying anything.

“Did I do something?” Ghoul asked to no one, sounding so broken it made both Jet and Kobra want to beat the shit out of Poison. “Was it me?”

“No,” Kobra finally said, his heart twisting. He started pacing the room from his building anxiety. “It wasn’t you, of course it wasn’t you, fuck.”

Ghoul looked up at him, his face pink from crying.

“He’s clearly going through something, Ghoul,” Kobra said reassuringly. “I wouldn’t- I-I would just wait. Wait for him to figure it out.”

Jet glanced at Kobra, unsure if this approach was a good idea.

“He’s probably just… Confused.” Kobra walked to Ghoul and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take it personally.”

Ghoul sniffed, looking down and thinking about that. If he was confused, why couldn’t he just talk to Ghoul about it? What happened to them always going to each other when they had issues? Why had things changed so much recently? 

Jet shared a glance with Kobra. They were both unsure of this. The way they were going about it, the way to proceed from here, what to say, if anything, to Poison when he got back. Jet saw fear suddenly strike Kobra, his eyes widening and his breath kicking up. He suddenly worried Poison wasn’t coming back, that he’d left to “check the roads” and had run off. Maybe it had something to do with why Tango had left in a hurry. Maybe something was happening and they weren’t outside where it was happening. Jet held a hand out to Kobra. He was having a panic attack.

Kobra clutched Jet’s hand like he was dying, feeling his chest refuse new air. His head spun and his fingers tingled. 

“Kobra?” Ghoul asked. 

Kobra wheezed doubling over and breathing fast. Jet stood up and hugged him, giving him something to hang onto. Kobra dug his fingers into Jet’s jacket, trying to do anything to calm down. Focusing on his breathing was not a good idea, so he tried to focus on external sensations.

“Kid, you should’ve seen the shoes one of the girls at the concert was wearing last night,” Jet said, attempting to distract him so he could calm down. “She had these huge heels with strawberries cut out of the platforms.”

“What?” Kobra chuckled, still struggling to breath normally.

“It was like the shape of a strawberry cut out of the shoe’s platform.” Jet traced the shape on Kobra’s back. “They were bright pink too, with green straps.”

“The shit people wear to concerts,” Kobra huffed a laugh, still feeling his fingers shaking. “Was she one of the girls with the jackets?”

“The ones with the huge foam spikes on the back? Yes.”

“That must’ve been why I didn’t notice her shoes,” Kobra said thoughtfully. “Those jackets- where did they even get them?”

“They must’ve been from the city,” Ghoul said. “I feel like I’ve seen a shop selling those before.”

“The shoes or the jackets?” Kobra asked, pulling out of Jet’s hug to look at him.

“The jackets,” Ghoul corrected. “I have no idea where she got those shoes, though I wouldn’t be surprised if they were a new trend in the city.”

“You feel better?” Jet asked.

“Y-yeah,” Kobra said, sighing. “Sorry. And thanks.”

“No problem. What had you so worked up?”

“Uh-” Kobra glanced at Ghoul. “Well, it was irrational anyway. Anxiety flaring up.”

Ghoul frowned.

“You wanna get some water?” Jet asked, stepping toward the kitchen. 

“Sure, maybe some fresh air too.” Kobra felt so horrible, excluding Ghoul like this. But he felt it, the itch in the back of his head that told him not to talk about it around Ghoul. For some reason, he knew he had to leave him in the dark for as long as possible.

Kobra stepped outside into the desert sun, flipping on his sunglasses and glancing around. His heart jumped again when he didn’t see any sign of Tango or Poison anywhere. Jet came out after him with a bottle of water, which he began chugging as soon as it was in his hands.

“What’s going on?” Jet asked quietly.

“I got really scared in there that Poison wasn’t going to come back,” Kobra admitted, closing the bottle up and looking around again. “And I think it was warranted.”

Jet looked around too. The distance one had to walk to be out of sight in the desert was… Not small. And Poison and Tango were nowhere to be seen.

“I-I don’t know wh-what’s going on but,” Kobra stuttered, feeling anxious again. “But I know we can’t do anything about it.”

“But if he doesn’t come back-” Jet stopped himself, terrified of what that meant for the Killjoys.

“It he doesn’t come back, we can’t do anything about it,” Kobra said, crinkling the bottle in his hands. “It fucking sucks, it’s so annoying, but we can’t go after him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kobra groaned. “I don’t know why, but I can feel it. It feels like Dr. D, tapping me on the shoulder and shaking his head, it feels like an itch I know I can’t scratch.”

“Stick by Fun Ghoul,” Jet echoed Dr. D’s letter. “This is what he meant.”

“Yeah.” Kobra’s heart ached. “Yeah, this is what he meant. And it fucking sucks.”

* * *

“We have to go back, you know,” Tango said gently. 

“I know,” Poison sighed. 

They hadn’t moved since their conversation, Poison had asked if they could just take a few minutes for him to calm down. He’d sat on the ground and closed his eyes, as if he were meditating. Tango assumed he was doing something like that, so he had waited patiently. But now, with the sun edging toward the point in the sky that signaled them needing to be ready for the next show, Tango was starting to get nervous. Poison was still sat still, eyes shut, and they needed to prepare for the second show. 

Poison knew this, but he was finally getting somewhere. He’d initially just tried to calm down and stop thinking so much, but he had actually been able to start quieting his thoughts. He hoped that, given a little more time, he could find out how to access his coding again. That would certainly be helpful in managing his rampant emotions. 

“You’ve got five minutes,” Tango warned. He checked the sky again for blackbirds, the horizon for dracs. Eerily quiet. 

“Fuck off,” Poison muttered. He tried to imagine what his code used to look like, the blackness with the scrolling information, some sort of attempt by BLI to make their coding look like something out of that ancient classical film the Matrix. He only saw the backs of his eyelids though, it wasn’t really there. “Fuck…”

“P, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but the sun is setting and I think we should head back so we can help set up.” Tango stood, glancing around them. “Also, you don’t have to talk to them about it immediately, but I think you should-”

“I broke up with Ghoul.”

The sentence made every thought Tango had grind to a halt. What? Broke up with Ghoul? Fuck! Over what?! “Over what?”

“Lots of things,” Poison said, biting the inside of his cheek. “My annoying emotions, doubts about my own experience, realizing I- that I don’t-”

Poison screwed his face up in discomfort, trying to find the right words. Tango held his breath.

“It might not make sense, but… I realized that, what he wants out of our relationship, I don’t want that. All I want to do is help people and drive fast.” Poison sighed, opening his eyes finally. “I can’t do that with-”

“What?” Tango blurted belatedly. “I-I mean- what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I can’t do that with a boyfriend!” Poison shouted over him, standing up and brushing off his jeans.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Tango repeated. “You- of course you can! You have been! You’ve been helping people by being a beacon of-”

“Shut up!” Poison shouted, exhausted. “I’m not a beacon of anything!”

“Well then what are you?!” Tango demanded, crossing his arms. “What have you been doing all this time, then? Explain yourself!”

“I-I’ve-” Poison blinked at him, cheeks heating up. “I-”

“You’ve been helping people, you’ve saved lives, you’ve- fuck it, you’ve driven fast, and all with who?”

Poison bit his lip and looked away. 

“Stop acting like everything you’ve done somehow isn’t enough or doesn’t count.” Tango wasn’t yelling anymore, but he did keep his glare. “Just because you know more could be done doesn’t discount what you’ve already accomplished. And you’ve done it all with Ghoul. And Jet, and Kobra. You four- I don’t know if you realize it, but you’re heroes in the zones, and legends in the city.”

Poison didn’t say anything, but he looked up a the word “legends,” surprised.

“Yeah. Last I checked, people are making up all kinds of stories about what you’ve done to free people from BLI and how you can talk to gods.”

Poison’s eyes widened. He realized then that, actually, they could.

“It’s crazy stuff they talk about,” Tango said with a shrug and a scoff. “But the point is that you guys have made an impact. What you guys are doing hasn’t gone unnoticed. And you’ve done it together, dating or not.”

Tango put a hand on Poison’s shoulder.

“Though, that’s not to say that you shouldn’t have broken up with Ghoul if you think you had good reasons,” Tango said carefully. “If you think you did the best thing for you both, then that’s all you can do.”

Poison looked off in the direction of the bus, so far off that he couldn’t see it from where they were. Was he okay with breaking up with Ghoul? It felt easier to be broken up, he didn’t have to worry about fucking up again. Though, when Poison started thinking about it, he realized that it wasn’t about fucking up and cheating or disappointing Ghoul, it was about their relationship falling apart on its own. He hated the feeling of deterioration, he hated the idea of them slowly falling out with each other and losing faith and trust in each other. Best to cut the limb off before the bruise forms at all. One day Poison wanted to die in a race, and one day he almost did. He would’ve been fine if he’d died that day, he realized, and his stomach lurched at the thought.

“Are you ready to head back?” Tangos asked after the long silence.

“Yep,” Poison answered, shoving his thoughts back with a deep breath. “Yeah.”

* * *

To the relief of Jet and Kobra, Poison and Tango came into view on the horizon around the time the band decided to set up without them. They already had the base for the stage set up, Mania was off to the side getting their gear ready and Punk was preparing the background of the stage. Ghoul was still inside the bus, going over the tour map and trying not to think about the breakup. 

Kobra noticed the controlled expression on Poison’s face, the anxiety present on Tango’s. Things were still going on and it wasn’t going to be easy for them, going forward. He felt it in his bones.

“Streets are clear, the city looks dead,” Poison called as they got closer, startling Mania and Punk. “People are going to start showing up soon, so let’s wrap up this stage setup and get me, Tango, and Kobra out to the lookout spots.”

“Where the hell were you two?” Punk asked, dropping the equipment he was putting together.

“We-” Tango started, but Poison interrupted him.

“Checking the streets and the city,” he said shortly, expression tightening. “Or, you know, my job. Security takes time out here.”

Punk flinched slightly, then nodded and turned back to his work.

Mania stared suspiciously at them but didn’t say anything.

Once the stage was finally set up, Poison went over the evac plan again with Jet if one of the three flares went off. Kobra talked with Ghoul about handling the stage by himself and how to do crowd control on his own. And after that, when they’d pulled the cycles out of the bus, Tango approached Poison off to the side of the bus.

“Why am I not on crowd control again?” he asked, glancing over at Ghoul.

“Because, you, me, and Kobra are the best drivers we have,” Poison answered, his tone strictly professional. “If something goes wrong, we don’t want to make mistakes out there. Plus, I think Ghoul is better suited for crowd control since he’s a good mediator.”

“… So there’s not other reason that you don’t want to be talking to Ghoul all night?” Tango asked flatly.

“No.” Poison glared at him fully. “I’m dealing with this my way and you’re not a part of it anymore. I’m sorry for that night and we have to move on.”

“Are you sure you’re not just shutting people out because it hurts less?” Tango asked, softly this time.

Poison just kept glaring at him.

“You can deal with this your way, but don’t just cut us all out of your life. That’ll hurt more than anything else.”

* * *

The night was just getting started, the concert starting up in front of the crowd of many familiar and unfamiliar faces. Ghoul found that a lot of them were more respectful than at the first show, so far. He was the only one on the stage, so there was twice the work to do, but he was handling it. Jet was stationed on top of the gas station with binoculars. His job was to watch for flares shot up by Poison, Kobra, or Tango. Out on the three roads that converged at the concert venue, Poison, Kobra, and Tango were sat on their cycles keeping their eyes out for any movement. Each of them had a flare gun at the ready on one hip and a walkie talkie on the other. 

It would be a lie to say Poison wasn’t happy to be alone for once. Not that he didn’t have the chance to be by himself sometimes, but he’d underestimated the closeness of the tour bus. Being able to be truly alone, alone with your thoughts and alone with yourself, that was something Poison hadn’t had since he left the city. At the time he’d been grateful for it, being alone with the thoughts you had while trapped in an apartment you shared with a psychopath was not the best situation. But now he longed for the chance to just be alone. He had so many questions to ask himself that he couldn’t properly answer when he was with others. Who was he? How did he really feel about what he was doing? What was he doing? Should he be doing something else? How did he really feel about who he was and how he acted?

Poison sighed with the breeze, staring down the road that disappeared in a perfectly straight line. A silent and solitary picture of one single road going on one single journey that ended with no twist nor turn. He couldn’t decide if that was better than having a road that squiggled and cracked, broken before it’s intended end. He couldn’t decide if potential outweighed the finished plan, followed perfectly.

Who was he? He was a person first, a droid second. He had to remind himself of this. He knew Tango could easily revert him back to how he was before, but he’d realized since then that that was essentially cheating. Cheating life. Humans didn’t get to just take out their feelings and emotions, and they dealt with them just fine. He was a person, a person who needed connection. Not because of anything other than the fundamental need for people to be with people. Human biology told them they needed each other, droid technology told them they needed each other and humans. People needed people. Poison had to accept that. 

“Come in, P,” Tango said, his voice crackling over the walkie talkie on Poison’s hip. 

“Go for it,” Poison answered, pulling the walkie talkie up quickly. He remembered what he was doing. Protecting his people.

“Nothing’s wrong, just wanted to talk if that’s okay?”

“I mean, this is a secure channel for emergencies,” Poison deadpanned. “But if you want to talk about the latest episode of fucking Life With Honey, be my guest.”

Tango laughed, first a bark then a giggle. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing. As a friend.”

Poison gnawed on his lip, ripping and tearing at the skin there. “I’m doing okay. Thank you.”

“You know you can talk to me, and the Killjoys of course.” He hesitated. “You know you should.”

“Yeah,” Poison sighed, dropping his head to hang over the handlebars of his cycle. “I’m getting there. Sorry for- everything. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate your apology but I’m not the one to apologize to. I don’t think you should apologize to me, we’re square.”

“If you insist.” Poison smiled. “I’ll talk to them. Speaking of, Kobra?”

There was a beat before Kobra came over the channel. “Yeah?”

“The way I’ve acted hasn’t been fair, to you, to Ghoul, to Jet, or anyone else.” He fidgeted with his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m going through a lot right now that I didn’t feel like I could talk about with you guys. It’s droid stuff, so I… I guess I didn’t expect you guys to get it.”

“Well, you’ve always been shit at communication, so,” Kobra said jokingly. “But in all seriousness, thank you for apologizing. And we might not get it, but you can still talk to us about it.”

“Thanks, Kid.” Poison cracked his neck and looked back up at the road. He’d been acting so childish. It had been so hard for him lately, just being around so many people he wanted to protect. 

He had to sort through his feelings for people, he needed to understand why he’d really broken up with Ghoul. In the moment, he’d questioned if he’d ever loved him. But now, under the clear sky full of stars, he remembered. He remembered making stars with Ghoul, collapsing and creating a universe with him, he remembered feeling loved, feeling love, being absolutely full to the brim with love. His droid brain didn’t have an explanation for love, didn’t have a definition or a section for it. But his conscious, rational, clearheaded, solitary mind knew what it was. Knew what it felt like. It felt like soft hands on his face, gentle pinkies looped together during meetings, strong legs tangled together as they slept, greasy hair in his face when he woke up in the morning. It felt like knowing without a shadow of a doubt that there would be at least one person who would be sad if he died, one person waiting for him to come home, one person who would crawl out of a car crash at the bottom of Dead Man’s Drop to find him again. There would always be at least one person that would be sad if Ghoul died, waiting for him to come home, someone who would crawl out of a car crash, refusing to die there before seeing his face again.

What a load of shit, he realized. What a load of shit it was to think he wanted to die in a car crash. How fucking selfish, to think that he would want to die in his prime while there were still millions to save. How selfish to think that he would want to die in such a way that Ghoul would be left waiting for him to come home, left to wonder if he’d lied when he’d said he loved him. What an ass he’d been. How fucking dense was he, really? Honestly, was his head made of lead?!

Poison twisted the knob of the walkie talkie, switching to the other security channel, the one Jet was on.

“Jet Star, this is Piss Baby, I have an apology to issue,” Poison groaned, knocking his head against the handlebars of his cycle.

“Are you about to apologize for giving yourself the code name Piss Baby? Because I didn’t need to know that about you.” Jet’s tone was half joking, half nervous. 

Poison rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. What I said the other night, about wanting to die in a crash- that wasn’t true.”

“… Are you sure?” Jet hadn’t wanted to ask, but the way Poison had said it… It was hard to believe he had been exaggerating. 

“I-I definitely would- I-” Poison struggled, imagining it again. But this time he saw something else. A destination. He was driving somewhere. “I don’t think I feel that way anymore. I definitely did, but… I think- I think I’m working on it. It would be really fucking selfish to want to die that way, so… I’m working on it.”

Jet was silent for a moment. “Thank you for telling me, P. It means a hell of a lot to hear you say that. Just remember that we’re all here for you and we’re not fucking going anywhere.”

“Are you crying?” Poison asked with a startled laugh. 

“Fucking maybe,” Jet said, laughing too. “I just love you, I want you to be okay.”

“I’ll be okay, Jet.” Poison holstered the walkie talkie again, sighing. He felt a little better. Maybe that was the key to feeling less overwhelmed was letting people know he was feeling overwhelmed. He’d have to try that sometime.

* * *

The next morning, Poison realized very quickly that they’d all gone back on their word to “not do that again” in terms of staying up past dawn and drowning their brains in dangerous mixed expired alcohols. His head was trying to pop open, his mouth felt like it was full of sand, and his whole body hurt. The last thing was a fun mystery he’d have to unravel.

He once again fell out of his bunk and onto the ground, barely keeping his nose from slamming into it like the last time. He heard groaning around him after thudding onto the floor of the bus, so he assumed he was the first one awake and had just woken the others up.

“Fuck,” he heard Kobra groan, his voice rough. “We did it again, damn it.”

“Big surprise,” Poison remarked, getting up and going to the small bathroom off from the bunks. When he opened the door, though, someone was already in the shower.

“Occupied,” Ghoul called from behind the curtain.

Poison threw himself out of the bathroom and slammed the door, toppling into the wall as his heart jumped. He forgot to talk with Ghoul last night, he needed to do that. But not right now, while his brain was exploding and his whole body was aching. He slid along the wall, letting his tired head spin, before pushing off and walking toward the kitchen. There, he washed out his mouth and grabbed a bottle of water, downing it way too fast. 

He started trying to piece together what had happened last night. He remembered sitting and waiting for something to happen on the road he was watching, nothing happening, and then being given the all-clear by Jet to come back as the concert ended. He remembered Kobra insisting they just stay to make sure people get to meet the band and then leave safely. He also remembered Kobra taking the first drink, inviting their guests to drink with them. It was pretty fuzzy from there on. There were also flashes of things that were very hard to place. Tango doing a wheelie on his cycle, Jet singing _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ on top of the gas station counter with the song playing on a shitty stolen boom box, the crowd around him throwing money from an old board game at him as he did so, Poison himself drinking an energy drink from a wine glass that he doesn’t know where he got it from, Ghoul throwing an empty magazine rack through the gas station window. A jumble of scenes that don’t totally line up.

The other Killjoys and the band started moving around now, getting up and walking in on Ghoul in the shower like Poison had. Migrating to the kitchen where they each did just about what Poison had done. Wash out mouth, drink water too fast, sit down and wait for body to stop aching. Eventually, Ghoul finished his shower and Poison jumped up before anyone else could.

“My turn, I was in line before you guys,” he said, walking back to the bunks after Ghoul came out to the front of the bus.

He slipped by Ghoul without saying anything for now, needing to right himself before having a heavy conversation with him. His shower was short as a result, he was too anxious to sit still, too shakey from the freezing water, his anxiety, and his lack of food. Once he finally got his hair washed he got out and toweled off halfheartedly. 

He bumped fists with Kobra as he left, tagging him in for the next use of the shower. Ghoul wasn’t in the small living space or the kitchen. Neither was Tango, Poison realized. Mania, Punk, and Jet were all there, drinking water and eating shitty snack foods. As soon as he heard talking outside the bus he went straight to the window, clambering over Mania to peek through the window.

“Watch it, Red,” Mania moaned, holding his head and shrinking away from the new light shining through the blinds.

“Shh!” Poison snapped, catching Ghoul’s black hair against the bright desert outside them. He strained to listen to what they were saying.

“… to thank you,” Tango said, and Poison saw him put a hand on Ghoul’s shoulder. “For what you said last night.”

“After what you told me,” Ghoul said, trailing off. “I should be thanking you, honestly. I’m still sorry about how I talked to you before.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Tango said, pulling him in for a quick hug. “Much worse has been said to me. We’re square?”

“Yeah, we’re square.” Ghoul was smiling, Poison could hear it in his voice. He felt… Something. He felt some way about Ghoul making amends with Tango. A good way, but he couldn’t place it. 

“You wanna check the roads?” Tango asked, looking into the distance.

“We should go inside and visit first,” Ghoul said, heading back toward the bus.

Poison threw himself from the window and onto the couch on the opposite side out the room, landing roughly on Jet’s lap, startling him out of the tired daze he’d been slipping into.

“P, what the fuck?!” Jet groaned, hardly able to speak with Poison’s weight on his chest. 

“Sorry,” Poison said quickly, shifting off his lap and grabbing the nearest magazine to pretend like he’d been reading it. “Was eavesdropping.”

“You almost made me throw up,” Jet grumbled.

Just then, Ghoul opened the door to the bus. Poison met his eyes immediately, expectant and waiting. Poison realized that he didn’t know where they’d parked after last night. He didn’t even know if they’d moved at all, having assumed everyone got as drunk as he had. But the way Tango and Ghoul had spoken, and based off of their next venue…

“Hey guys,” Ghoul said, to get their attention. “Just letting you know if you were too wasted last night, we’re parked at the Oblivion right now. I thought we could go inside and the band could meet the people who work there as a special treat before tonight’s show.”

“The Oblivion?” Punk said.

“No shit?!” Poison shouted, jumping up. “Fuck yeah! I missed them! Oh! You think Doc will give me a free checkup?!”

“I think that doctor would give you everything for free if he could,” Jet laughed. “You’re his favorite patient.”

“Please tell me you’re talking about an actual doctor,” Mania said, glancing around at them.

“Yeah, dude, what else would they be talking about?” Kobra asked, coming out from the bunks still drying his hair. “The Oblivion Hotel is the zones’ one and only secret hospital. It’s got the zones’ only doctor and many nurses.”

“Secret hospital?” Punk squinted. “Then why did you just tell us about it?”

“It’s a secret to BLI, not zoners.” Kobra walked across the room to get a bottle of water. “So don’t go blabbing about it when you guys go home. But also, you guys are fucking popular. You think Doc doesn’t bop to your hits during surgery?”

“Seriously?” Mania laughed. “He does?”

“He does?” Poison asked, looking uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Kobra said, raising his arms. “What he chooses to do while patients are out cold is his choice. He’s the doctor, let the man work how he wants.”

“Anyway,” Ghoul said, clearing his throat. “If you’re in the mood right now, we should go inside and meet everyone.”

“Uh yeah, let us finish sharing the same shower,” Mania said glumly, watching Punk head that way. “Unless they have a working shower inside?”

“Not working the way you’d want it to be,” Ghoul said, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah,” Poison said wistfully. “I remember that shower.”

“And the seven wrenches we went through to fix it?” Jet asked sourly, looking at the scar on his left hand.

“Yeah, she was a piece of work.” Poison nodded, still smiling. “She hated you.”

“Showers aren’t sentient,” Jet grumbled.

“She hated you,” Poison repeated, giggling.

“She hated me,” Jet agreed, glaring at his water. “Why did she hate me so much?!”

“Okay, let’s come back to reality, boys,” Kobra said, snapping his fingers. “We gotta go inside, the band will come out when they’ve had their showers.”

“Maybe I can make amends with her,” Jet declared, standing up. He still hadn’t taken a shower yet. “Maybe we can get back on even ground with each other.”

“I dunno, Jet, I’d bring a wrench and some duct tape if you’re going to try to shower in her,” Poison said with a shrug. “She’s hard to please.”

“Do they always talk about showers like they’re people?” Mania whispered over to Ghoul, staring confusedly at Jet and Poison.

“Only the ones with personalities,” Ghoul answered cryptically. He left the bus with Kobra then, tired of feeling his heart hurt from watching Poison act so normal.

Tango had told him the night before about what Poison had said over the radio and about his episode when he’d stormed off, the issues he was having with his emotions. Ghoul wanted to talk with him about it, try to fix things between them, but Kobra had told him not to. Kobra had told him to wait for Poison to come to him, that he would. They both hoped he was right.

* * *

The doctor and nurses of the Oblivion were so excited to meet the band, they even set up the dining room with banners and welcome gifts. They met the band and took pictures on a broken polaroid camera, they talked about the coming show at the Zone 4 gas station and how the whole hospital had free tickets. The Killjoys caught up with the staff, too.

“Holy shit!” Jet exclaimed, finally walking into the dining area with everyone else after losing a fight with the Oblivion’s shower. “Nurse Joy?!”

“For now,” she said, standing taller and proudly showing off her new white coat. “Doctor-in-training!”

“Oh no shit?” Ghoul said, smiling.

“Yep!” She turned to Poison, elbowing him. “One day I might even be your doctor!”

“Hopefully Doc will have given you a book on ethics by then,” Poison said, half jokingly. Joy was a wonderful nurse, and an even better friend, but they’d heard more than enough stories to know what she was capable of. Her temper, though long, snapped hard when it did.

“Speaking of doctors,” Kobra said, turning to Doc. “We were wondering if you could give Party Poison a checkup.”

“What?!” Poison shouted. “I was joking!”

“It has been a while,” Doc said, ignoring Poison’s outburst.

“We’re willing to pay whatever you charge,” Kobra said dramatically. “Just let us have a break from him, Doc.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Poison shouted, stomping his foot.

“I can do a checkup,” Doc laughed. “Free of charge! If you actually want one, of course.”

Poison glared at Kobra, but his expression twisted into resignation. “It has been a while since my last, I guess I should.”

“Hey, uh, Doc?” Tango said suddenly, stepping into their conversation. “Do you think I could maybe come with?”

“Why?” Poison stared at him.

“I know droids like the backs of my hands, but you’re like a… Franken-droid or something!” Tango waved his hands around Poison’s torso. When he was met with stares, he elaborated. “Your insides probably look cool!”

“You’re being nasty,” Poison said, sticking his tongue out. 

“If the patient is comfortable with that, I have no objections to showing off my handiwork,” Doc said with a smile.

“Please?” Tango asked, clutching his hands together under his chin and looking up at Poison through his eyelashes, begging. “Pretty please?”

“Fuck, fine,” Poison said, exasperated. “Just- stop making that face, you’re freakin’ me out.”

Ghoul watched them leave, stomping on his jealous thoughts. He didn’t need to feel jealous, Tango was going with to learn more about droid anatomy, that’s all. Still, he felt it bubble in his chest like when you drink soda too fast. He turned back to the group of nurses and the band. He caught up with Joy, telling her about his personal progress and the things happening recently. He didn’t tell her about him and Poison breaking up, though. He still didn’t totally want to acknowledge that it had happened.

In the exam room, Poison hopped onto the exam bed and heaved a sigh. Tango sat on the doctor’s rolling stool while Doc washed his hands and put on gloves. Poison felt odd, not only because Tango was there, but he had this strange feeling that felt like- Tango was going to be the first person other than his doctor to see his guts, and for some reason he really wanted Ghoul to have that privilege. He shook his head a little, because that was a very strange thought. Was that selfish? Where did that even come from?

“Okay!” Doc said happily, clapping his gloved hands. “Would you please remove your shirt?”

“Sure,” Poison said, pulling his tank top over his head. So odd, he thought, how exposed you could feel when one other person was there too. 

“Wow!” Doc said instantly leaning a little to examine the biggest and most dramatic of his surgery scars. “The scar is healing very well! I was worried it might mess with your silhouette but it’s almost completely flat. Very good…”

Tango watched the doctor and how he worked with Poison. He asked before touching him, very carefully opened panels in his arms, asking again to check wire connections within them. Tango started to feel bad for all the droids he’d worked on in the past. He wasn’t trained to ask, he wasn’t trained like a doctor. He was trained like a mechanic.

“Okay, now it’s time to check the main reason we’re here,” Doc announced. “Have you tried opening your stomach panel at all?”

“Uh…” Poison stared at the wall. “Nope.”

“Hm,” Doc hummed, gently pressing the side of Poison’s torso. “When we reattached everything, I was worried we would have limited access afterward. Obviously, a small inconvenience in place of you, you know, losing your legs…”

“Right,” Poison chuckled.

“I may have to look in through the back, since there is more of your original model preserved there.”

Poison rolled onto his stomach and huffed a sigh. Tango scooted over to be next to his head.

“You good?” Tango asked, spinning slightly on the stool.

“Yeah,” Poison said, laying his head down to hide the weird blush that warmed his face.

“I’m opening the left side now,” Doc said, waiting for Poison to nod before popping open the panel on the left side of his back. 

Tango peeked over, seeing the massive amounts of machinery under the panel of gently tanned skin. A blue light was emitting from inside him, along with a blinking yellow one.

“Hm,” Doc hummed again, looking nervously for the source of the light.

“Something wrong?” Poison asked. He didn’t like when Doc didn’t talk to him.

“There seems to be a caution light on somewhere,” the doctor explained, leaning over to look up the inside of Poison’s back. “I’m thinking it’s probably a warning that came about because of the mix in machinery and different models of things. BLI’s machines don’t like it when you put old and new things together.”

“What does that mean?” Poison was remaining calm, he took a slow breath.

“If it’s just a machinery warning, it means we can ignore it.” Tango started explaining before the doctor could. “It would mean there’s nothing actually wrong. BLI sets up their hardware and software to resist backward and forward compatibility, simultaneously making it impossible for new parts to be put into old models and for old parts to be repurposed for new models. But, since the doctor already knows that, he’s probably removed that bit of code to allow for it. The legs probably came with their own remnants of that restrictive code, so they’re trying to fight being put on an older model.”

“Exactly, and well-said.” Doc smiled at him, turning back to examining where the light was coming from. “It looks like it’s from one of the donor organs, so Tango here is probably correct. We shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh,” Poison said dumbly. “Cool.”

Doc made sure nothing important was blinking before explaining how he would fix the warning light. He’d have to put Poison out briefly to be able to access his code and remove the restrictions from anywhere it lingered. When asked how long it would take, Doc pursed his lips and thought for a moment.

“It depends on how many places it still resides in your code,” he said thoughtfully. “At the worst, it could take all day…”

“What?” Tango frowned. “No it shouldn’t, there should be a way to search for the code directly.”

Poison looked over his shoulder at them.

“The problem is that I don’t know the exact wording or the code, so I wouldn’t know how to look for it,” Doc explained. “I would have to-”

“You’re gonna search through every piece of code manually?” Tango seemed flabbergasted at the idea. “You- you do have a Droid Module, don’t you?”

“… A what?” Doc asked.

Poison suddenly felt very thankful for his life…

“Okay, standby,” Tango said, shaking his head as he stood from the stool. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

Poison stared at the door, then up at Doc over his shoulder. The doctor looked confused. He sighed and turned back to Poison.

“Well, while we wait for him, I’ll check the interior and how it’s been healing.” He said, leaning back down to peer inside Poison’s torso.

It wasn’t even five minutes later that Tango was lugging in a strange machine the size of Dr. Death’s old busted desktop computer. It had a primitive-looking keyboard and a screen that took up the top half of it. He placed it on the counter of the exam room just as Poison was sitting up.

“Okay, so this,” Tango said, gesturing to the machine, “is a Droid Module. It’s kinda old because it’s my spare, but it’ll get the job done. It’s supposed to be used for scanning a droid’s code, but I’ve modified it to be able to edit code as well. Again, it’s old and can’t do much else than that, but this is what you want to be using, Doc.”

Doc looked fascinated with the Module, walking over to inspect the sides. “Could you show me how to use it?”

“Of course,” Tango said with a smile. “P, you okay if I go sorting through your head to show the Good Doctor how this baby works?”

Poison blinked at him. He almost forgot that he was the patient, getting a checkup. “Uh, yeah. Go ahead.”

“Okay cool. I’m gonna power you down the fast way if that’s okay,” Tango asked, already reaching up to Poison’s neck.

“Sure,” Poison muttered, caught wondering why there were fast and slow ways to shut droids down. Loss prevention, he guessed.

And before he could finish another thought, he was out, slumped forward on himself. Tango had pinched just below the base on his skull, shutting him off like a light switch. Doc didn’t know if he liked knowing that was there.

“It’s only on older models,” Tango explained, taking what looked like small electrodes with pins in the center off from the side of the Module. He then stuck those into each side of Poison’s neck and went back to the Module. “It’s safe as long as we’re quick.”

“Noted,” Doc said. 

The Module came to life and instantly was flooded with Poison’s code. 

“Whoa, slow down…” Tango typed away, entering commands Doc didn’t recognize. The code started coming in slower until it was one line every second. “Okay, that’s manageable…”

“Explain what you’re doing,” Doc said, leaning in to watch closer.

“Well, new code gets written at the speed that droids think, the formatting and all that is established when they’re first made… But what I just did was change his thought speed, I brought it down to one line per second. It might leave him with a headache afterward but it’ll help me find what I’m looking for.”

Tango explained as he went, telling the doctor what commands he was typing in and explaining what they did before he did them. He showed Doc how to open the request box and how to search for specific code, as well as giving him common types of the Machinery Restriction code. He also threw in a few others that were useful, in case the doctor ever needed them.

“So, you can search for anything?” Doc asked as Tango started to actually search for the code they needed to delete. 

“Just about,” Tango answered, thinking of any that he couldn’t search for. “You can search for original code or just keywords. Those will usually bring up thought code, which gets a little more invasive since you’re essentially reading their thoughts…”

“Hm.” Doc hummed, scribbling notes on his notepad. “No matter how many hours I spent studying to become a doctor, there is always so much more to learn.”

Tango smiled. He finally found the code and started carefully deleting each one. “Be careful when you start deleting them. It’ll jump you around some, might throw you off and you might lose your place…”

Eventually, all the code was deleted. It took them hardly twenty minutes.

“Fantastic!” Doc exclaimed, patting Tango’s shoulder excitedly.

“Yep, and you can keep this for future visits,” Tango promised. “I’m gonna finish up and then wake him up.”

“Alright, I’m just going to run these notes to my office,” Doc said quickly, leaving the room before Tango could respond.

Alone in the exam room, Tango watched the door shut. He felt an odd sense of mischief cross over him. He could look around in Poison’s head and no one would know. Ick, he scolded himself, that’s horrible. Don’t do that. Don’t go looking for trouble, you’re better than that. But still…

He quickly searched for something he had always wondered about droids… What he found made him frown. He wanted to know if droids dreamed, but when he searched he found code he didn’t recognize. He stared at it for a beat before thinking of something. It was a weird idea, but he wondered…

Tango resized the size of the text, making it smaller to allow more of it to show up on the screen. When he saw what these blocks of unidentifiable code looked like essentially from afar, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He saw pictures. This code made up actual images that were burned into Poison’s coding. Like a roll of film, Tango scrolled down the huge blocks of code, seeing in slow motion the dreams that Poison had had in the past. He felt horribly guilty when he suddenly saw Ghoul’s face, covered in star-like freckles and so close to what would’ve been Poison’s. Tango brought the text back to regular size, kicking himself out of the code line restriction and initiating the removal sequence. Slowly the machine turned off, and Tango pulled the electrodes from Poison’s neck. Tiny beads of glittering blood formed there, so Tango gently cleaned them and put small bandages he found in one of the drawers over them.

He pinched Poison’s neck again, asking himself in his head if his curiosity was worth overstepping that boundary of privacy. He decided it was not.

* * *

After the checkup, Poison had to lie down and take something for his splitting headache. Doc reassured him that the headache would pass in a few hours, and that everything else looked perfect. Poison figured that was better than potentially not being able to work the concert and also forcing Doc to take care of him all day. 

The other Killjoys decided it was time to go to the gas station to scope it out and make sure they were ready. Ghoul wanted to sit with Poison as he took a nap, but Kobra insisted they needed his help. Jet sat with Tango and went over the radio frequencies to scan for suspicious activity. Ghoul and Kobra drove up and down the highway near the gas station, then they climbed the exterior fire escape of the Oblivion to get a good look at the city. Both left them feeling good about how the night would go.

The Zone 4 gas station was one of the most gutted, it only had one working pump. The rest of them were gone, hauled away presumably for parts. The pump area was still covered, though. They able to create a pretty solid stage underneath it. Punk climbed up one of the pillars holding the canopy up and hung upside down by his legs, tying lights to it as he shimmied across to the other side. Mania made sure the speakers and backdrop were in place. 

Kobra and Jet met up and decided standard security was okay, nothing complicated like the last show. Tango and Ghoul would be at the stage to keep fans from going overboard, Jet and Poison would keep watch on the roof of the gas station, and Kobra would watch the collective backs of the crowd. 

Poison woke up a few hours before sunset, thankfully. He came out from the studio where he’d napped into the front room on the bus. Ghoul was there, sitting on the couches. He’d finished planning with everyone and had decided to take a break over some poptarts. He looked up and froze when he saw Poison. 

“Hey,” he said, looking up at him.

“Hey,” Poison said back, yawning and falling onto the couch next to him. “Wanna share?”

Ghoul silently held out a piece of his poptart. Poison took it and ate it, then frowned.

“I always forget that you like the fucking brown sugar cinnamon ones,” he said, sticking his tongue out.

“Your opinion of the brown sugar cinnamon ones is not valid because you like the strawberry ones,” Ghoul said without missing a beat, all tension in his shoulders gone. “Those things taste like fucking plastic.”

“No they do not,” Poison argued. “They taste like strawberry-flavored plastic.”

Ghoul laughed. “Okay I’m fine with that.”

Comfortable silence turned into charged tension again as they sat next to each other.

“P?” Ghoul said softly. “Can we talk about it?”

Poison took a breath. “Yeah. I think we should.”

Ghoul turned so that his left leg was up on the couch and that he was facing Poison.

“First of all, I want to say I’m sorry,” Poison started, turning the same way Ghoul had. “I’m sorry for cheating on you, and I’m sorry for not talking to you about what I’ve been going through. It’s not fair to you if all of the sudden I’m just- acting differently, you know?”

Ghoul nodded but didn’t speak.

Poison pressed on. “I mean, I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve told you what I was thinking, should’ve let you know why I was acting the way I was, and I didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Ghoul responded quietly, trying not to sound desperate. He was very worried about how this conversation would go despite wanting to have it so badly. 

“I knew you would,” Poison said in a tone Ghoul couldn’t place. “But more importantly, I want you to know that- this?”

He gestured between them.

“I’m still so on board for making that work.” Poison caught his gaze and stared. “I’m working on myself, figuring myself out. I want to be- I-I want-”

Ghoul put a hand on his knee, steadying.

“I want to be better for you,” Poison choked out, surprised at himself. He hadn’t expected to cry. “I want to get better so that I can just- love you.”

Ghoul wanted to kiss him so badly, wanted to grab his face and hold him tight. But somehow he knew that wasn’t what Poison needed right now. He wasn’t reinitiating their relationship, he was promising to work on his issues so that they might be able to get back together later on. It broke his heart, because of course Ghoul didn’t give a fuck if he thought he was “sick” or “broken” because he would love him regardless, unconditionally. But Poison wanted to do this, and to do it they couldn’t be together. Ghoul understood, as much as it hurt. He pulled him in for a hug, simple and platonic, arms around his shoulders. No tucking faces in necks, no kisses on cheeks. 

“I know it’s probably super, uh, fucked to ask this but,” Poison sniffled, “will you wait for me?”

“Always,” Ghoul promised, and it sent Poison into another wave of tears. Before he let it get too heavy, he added, “You think there’s anyone else in these godforsaken zones that could even barely match up to you? Have you seen some of the people coming to these shows?”

That got a laugh out of Poison, even a string of giggles as he pulled away and wiped his eyes. 

“Some bastard had what I think was ‘MGMK’ written on his fucking teeth in what must’ve been permanent marker,” Ghoul said, laughing too. “You are a goddamn diamond in the rough.”

* * *

The show was perfect, fast and loud and dirty. Poison was always surprised at how different they were on stage than in person. Punk was often pretty soft-spoken, but on stage he sang and screamed with the force of a fucking grenade to the face. Mania wasn’t much different, only being more willing to get into arguments. On stage, Mania played bass like a tornado, jumping and spinning and knocking shit over. This show felt special somehow, like the kid gloves had finally come off. The crowd moshed together but they never even needed to get a warning from Tango or Ghoul at the stage. The Good Doctor and the nurses were there too, dressed like regular zoners and rocking out with everyone else. Poison knew one constant truth about the world, and it was that music brought people together.

After learning that his own model was based on a classic rock star, Poison hadn’t touched making music. He hadn’t made anything since Summertime. But now, watching from the roof while people sang along, cried together, hugged one another- he kinda wanted to make music again.

Once again, they all made the mistake of making drinks. The crowd didn’t dissipate for a while. Poison had knocked back more than a few drinks but had decided he would rather remember this night and stopped accepting them from Kobra. Eventually they were all able to sit around the stage outside mostly alone. Poison was sat next to Kobra on the edge of the stage, kicking his legs. Ghoul was laying his head on his lap. Jet had found an old katana in the gas station and was now batting empty booze bottles thrown by Mania and Punk. 

Poison watched the bottles fly and occasionally shatter in the air when Jet finally hit one. He had one hand back, propping him up, and the other running through Ghoul’s hair as he fell asleep in his lap.

Kobra was the only one of them still drinking, sipping the last of his borderline gasoline mixed drink. He glanced over at Poison and Ghoul. “You guys make up?”

“We talked,” Poison answered, eyes still glazed over watching as Jet missed another bottle. 

“… You’re not together?” Kobra frowned.

“No.” Poison took a moment to clap as Jet hit a bottle. Jet bowed to his small crowd and then readied himself again. “We’re taking a break.”

“But-” Kobra stopped himself. He couldn’t push, he couldn’t question it. 

“I’m working on myself,” Poison explained, looking down at Ghoul as he started running his fingers through his hair again. “He’s gonna wait for me.”

“You know he loves you anyway,” Kobra said, unable to stop himself. “He would be nothing but supportive. You don’t- you guys don’t have to take a break.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Poison questioned, eyebrows furrowed. He looked over at him suspiciously. “You make a bet with Jet or something?”

“No.” Kobra should’ve laughed. “I just- I guess I just want to make sure that the Killjoys are okay. Like, as a group.”

Poison stared at him, his expression intense. “Are we?”

Kobra blinked. He guessed they were. Logic (as foggy as that was right now) told him that they were fine. They were doing their jobs and they hadn’t split up yet, so they were fine. But the message from Dr. Death, the feeling of impending- something. Doom maybe. It was making Kobra anxious, which was making him try to anticipate everything. He wanted to fix this, whatever it was. He always wanted to fix things.

“Kobra?” Poison put a hand on his shoulder.

“I- I’m sorry, forget it, I’m just-” Kobra shook himself out of his head. He was doing it again, trying to fix things that weren’t his to fix. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I-I don’t want to do that to you, I’m sorry.”

“Do what?” Poison held his shoulder, stopping him from turning away from him. “Kid, tell me what’s going on, please?”

“I-I’m trying to fix it,” Kobra stuttered, feeling his hands shaking from shame. “I’m sorry. I try to fix everything. You and him- I can’t- it’s not my job to fix it.”

Poison just listened, concerned.

“I tried to fix Mania, I tried to fix Jet, I- now I’m doing it to you and Ghoul- I’m sorry,” Kobra rambled, reaching for his drink.

Poison snatched it from between them, moving it to his side so that Kobra couldn’t reach it. “Hey, calm down. I’m not sure what you’re talking about because I’m super drunk and you are too.”

Kobra looked almost terrified.

“Remember when you had this conversation with me? About how I was super drunk? You’re super drunk, Kid. We can talk about this tomorrow when we’re not super drunk.” 

Kobra just nodded, not wanting to say he never wanted to talk about it again. He kept trying to fix everything. He came to the startling realization that that must’ve been why he liked working on cars so much. They often needed and appreciated a good fixing.

* * *

The morning hit them like a bag of bricks. Half of them weren’t even on the bus, passed out and probably dying of heatstroke inside the gas station. The stage hadn’t even been dismantled yet. Jet pulled himself and Mania from the floor of the gas station, their heads pounding. They heard a shout from somewhere and a thump. When they investigated, they found Kobra kneeling in front of the stage, confused.

“Poison?” he called at the stage.

“How do I get out from under here?!” Poison shouted from under the stage. Even though it made his headache worse, Mania started to laugh. “Stop laughing, assholes!”

There was a muffled groan and Poison yelped.

“Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!” Poison scolded.

“You’re so loud, ugh,” Ghoul groaned, hitting his head on something. “Ow, where are we?”

Mania was able to stop laughing long enough to open the side panel of the stage, access reserved for wire management. Poison and Ghoul managed to find their way out with the light afforded them. They were drenched in sweat, making them look even worse than everyone else.

“Fuck, that place makes out here feel like the fucking beach,” Poison huffed, running a hand through his greasy hair.

“What?” Ghoul squinted. “Is that a cold place?”

“Cold wind,” Poison explained absently, realizing he was drenched to the point of actually having to wash his clothes. Ghoul was too. “Water and cold wind.”

“Ah fuck!” Punk shouted, tumbling out of the bus and into the dirt. “We didn’t even take the fucking stupid goddamn stage down!”

“Guys?” Kobra said, getting everyone’s attention. “We’re going to have to stop fucking doing this.”

“Agreeing worked so well the first time,” Jet muttered, walking toward the stage to help start dismantling it. “Don’t just stand around, it’s not gonna take itself down.”

Poison and Ghoul shuffled onto the bus and toward the bathroom to shower, playing rock-paper-scissors to see who went first. Ghoul won and shut himself in the bathroom immediately. Poison didn’t want to sit on or really touch anything with his sweat-soaked clothes, so he grabbed a bottle of water and went to the studio. Tango was there, holding a bottle of water of his own, sitting on the ground against the couch.

“Whoa,” he said as Poison walked in. “You look like you actually died last night.”

“Might keep the look,” Poison said, unfurrowing his brow when he realized his face was contorted in disgust. He ran a hand over his forehead. “This shit’s not sustainable.”

“The partying or-”

“The partying,” Poison deadpanned. 

“At least we have a whole day between now and the next show.” Tango was right, their next venue was the Zone 5 warehouse. It would probably take them half the day to drive there and make sure it was empty, the show was the following night. 

“I’m sure it’ll empower us to be idiots again,” Poison sighed. He scratched at his side, then remembered Doc telling him not to scratch his scars and made a frustrated noise. It had been a long time since he’d gotten that order, and it was just to make sure they healed well, but he still didn’t want to scratch them. Just in case. “I wish I could just take these off right now, they’re starting to solidify.”

“Do it then.” Tango nearly drowned himself in water. “Ghoul’ll have to be a little nakey for a while anyway.”

“Nakey,” Poison said quietly staring at Tango with squinted eyes. Then he had a thought and frowned. “How are we going to wash our clothes, anyway?”

“Eh…” Tango shrugged. “Bucket of water?”

“You think the warehouse will have a sink or something?”

“Could,” Tango said thoughtfully. “We could just- fill the sink with water and wash them there. How did you guys wash your clothes at the radio tower?”

“Bathtub,” Poison said, only now thinking about how dirty that must actually be since the stuff you’re washing is all in the same water.

“Effective for large loads,” Tango observed. Then he looked like he’d had an idea. “Oh shit, we probably still have merch leftover in the back! You guys can wear that.”

“Pants?” Poison questioned, taking a long drink of his water. 

“Hm.” Tango hummed once, looking at the door to the back room. “Shorts.”

Poison choked on his water, it spraying out his nose. He was laughing at the image of Ghoul wearing track shorts with “MGMK” across the butt. He coughed and blew his nose in his shirt because fuck it, and turned to Tango. “I used to fucking own a pair.”

“Of course you did,” Tango chuckled, taking another drink of water. “You seem like the kinda girl who likes to show off her butt.”

Poison responded by spitting water at him.

Eventually Ghoul was done in the shower. Poison met him at the door with clothes from the back room of the bus, folded nicely.

“I’m gonna put our clothes together with mine and we’ll try to wash them later,” Poison explained. “Get dressed and drink some water. Eat something.”

Ghoul nodded silently, taking the clothes from him and closing the door to get dressed.

Poison was finally able to shower, scrubbing himself with the band’s very old scrubber and suddenly wishing he was back on the train so that he could feel clean for a second time in his life. He tried to tell himself that being clean is overrated as he tries to drown his head in shampoo. 

Directly after his shower, stepping out and into the rest of the bathroom, he realized he forgot to bring the new clean clothes with him and sighed. He knocked on the wall to get anyone’s attention and gets Jet.

“I forgot clean clothes,” Poison explained before Jet could ask. “Please go get them?”

“Sure thing,” Jet said with a nod, stifling a yawn.

Poison stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection like he was in a horror movie. Towels were a luxury that they’d actually run out of. No way to wash them meant they had to be discarded, moldy and unable to be salvaged. But Poison wasn’t worried about it, you could stand out in the zones fresh out of the shower and be dry in five seconds. He planned to do that, stand in the sun, maybe just lay in the dirt and accept that there would never be a day when he felt as comfortable as he had on the train.

Someone opened the door behind him without knocking and Poisoned looked at them in the mirror. Tango had brought him clean clothes and was now frozen, staring at Poison’s bare ass.

“Occupied,” Poison deadpanned, startling Tango.

“Sorry,” he muttered, handing over the clothes. “Really sorry.”

“Okay.” Poison looked over his shoulder at him, annoyed. He waited. “… Are you going to leave?”

Tango looked at him, face slowly turning red, and backed out, slamming the bathroom door shut.

Poison rolled his eyes and got dressed, drenching the shirt and shorts since he couldn’t dry off. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to track water throughout the bus and left the bathroom, heading toward the door.

“Whoa,” he heard Tango say from behind him. “How can your ass be more distracting with shorts?”

Kobra threw a packet of poptarts at him, silently glaring over his water.

“That’s a very objectifying question,” Poison shouted over his shoulder, already outside. They all were so off when they were hungover. He squinted in the light of the day, looking out at the desert around them. He could already feel his skin drying and his hair following suit. 

He was joined outside by Ghoul, dressed in the exact same merch he was. Poison smirked at him as he came to lean against the bus with him.

“Nice shorts,” Poison jabbed.

“Thanks, I got them from a soulless robot,” Ghoul shot back, arms crossed.

Poison laughed. “Just one turn around, I wanna see the letters on your butt.”

“You don’t get to see shit.” Ghoul’s cheeks turned pink, and Poison could tell it wasn’t from the heat. “Why would they make these tiny shorts for merch anyway?”

“Good question,” Poison said, then sat down, deciding he was in fact never not going to have dust and dirt on him somewhere. “Only reason they have leftovers is because they never sold them all. Probably hard to sell in the city, where anything that isn’t black or white is bleached or arrested.”

“Hm.” Ghoul hummed. He ran his hand through his hair to help it dry.

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching Mania and Punk finish picking up the last bits of the stage and pack them away. Poison kept his face turned toward the sun. He reminded himself how lucky he was to be out in the zones, how he’d dreamed of feeling the sun’s rays on his face when he was trapped in hell. Unknown to him, Ghoul was watching his serene expression, wondering to himself if that’s what he was thinking about. 

When it was time to go, Tango called everyone back onto the bus so they could begin the drive to the warehouse in Zone 5. It was a slightly new experience, sadly, for the Killjoys to all be awake while the bus was moving. Poison had forgotten what it felt like, and it certainly wasn’t agreeing with his hungover stomach, full of poptarts, water, and shitty instant coffee. All of them gravitated toward the studio room since it was the room with the most space for everyone to coexist in. It also had no windows, and Poison found it easier to not get motion sick without windows for some reason.

They lounged around in the room, everyone’s ongoing conversations that may or may not exist on hold. Mania plucked at his bass lazily, Punk was most likely asleep under the pages of lyrics he’d placed on his face. Jet and Kobra were going over the plan for the warehouse show halfheartedly. Ghoul sat on the couch with his legs crossed, watching them. Poison was beside him, knees under his chin, eyes shut. Ghoul stole glances at him every once in a while. Suddenly Poison opened his eyes, staring directly at the bass in Mania’s hands, where he was plucking something random.

“Play that again,” Poison said, startling the room out of their collective hush. Mania stared at him, blinking. Punk snored a little louder.

“Me?” Mania asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.” Poison stood up and walked over to him, listening intently as he played what he had again. “Can I steal that from you?”

“Uh, sure?” Mania glanced at Ghoul, as if asking if it was normal for Poison to suddenly be interested in making music. Ghoul’s eyes just shined, bright with the memory of the song they’d worked on together.

Poison took a notebook from their pile of unused ones, quickly writing down the notes Mania had played and then adding more. He shoved it in front of Mania. “Play this.”

He did as he was told, strumming the notes Poison had scribbled on the page.

“That sounds good,” Kobra said, sitting up straighter from where he was sat on the floor. “You making another song?”

“When inspiration strikes,” Poison muttered, squinting at the page. “Ghoul, grab a guitar.”

Ghoul sprung up from the couch excitedly, heading straight for one of the guitars just sitting around the studio.

By the time they’d made it to the warehouse that night, Tango coming to check on them after parking the bus, they had half a song and it already had a name.

“Bulletproof Heart?” Tango repeated, pursing his lips. “You wrote a whole song while I was driving?”

“Yeah,” Poison said, smiling up at him, eyes wide from excitement. Ink was smudged along his jaw from where it had stained his fingertips. “Wanna hear it?”

“Duh,” Tango answered, sitting on the couch with Mania.

Kobra was on bass, Ghoul and Jet each had a guitar, Punk was on the drums, and Poison sat himself on a stool, prepared to sing the lyrics he’d written so far. He counted them in and then Kobra began the song with the bass line, Jet, Ghoul, and Punk joining in. There was a break before the song really started, and then Poison cleared his throat and began to sing.

“ _You’ve got a bulletproof heart/I’ve got a hollow-point smile,_

_Me and your runaway scars/Got a photograph dream, on the getaway mile_ ”

He held up his hand and Ghoul and Jet joined him on the next line.

“ _Let’s blow a hole in this town!/And do our talking with a laser beam_

_Gunning out of this place in a bullet’s embrace/Then we’ll do it again_ ”

The song’s tone, the feeling, changed then, shifting more to a melancholy note.

“ _How can they say/’Jenny, could you come back home?’/’Cause everybody knows you don’t/Ever wanna come back/Let me be the one to save you,_

_Gravity/Don’t mean too much to me/I’m who I’ve got to be/These pigs are after me, after you,_

_Run away/Like it was yesterday/When we could run away/When we could run away/Run away from here!_ ”

They played the opening instrumental again, then came to a stop and all looked at Tango expectantly.

“That was- fucking amazing!” Tango shouted. He was still trying to comprehend what he’d just heard. “You all wrote that while I was driving?!”

“More or less,” Poison said, glowing from the praise. “I had some lyrics I had been sitting on for a while. It all just came together.”

“All just-” Tango could hardly finish a sentence. “You guys should play!”

“We… do?” Jet said, confused, looking down at his guitar.

“No, I mean at one of the concerts!” Tango had stood from the couch and walked over to them. “You guys- if you can finish that song, you can play it for people! At a concert!”

“What, as an opener?” Mania piped up, looking thoughtful.

“Exactly!”

“Oh, you guys could be our opening band!” Punk said, excitedly drumming lightly on the snare.

Poison paled slightly. “Perform? Like, live? In front of people?”

“Don’t tell me you of all people have stage fright,” Tango said incredulously. “You just sang it for us!”

“Yeah but- you’re not thousands of people!” Poison argued.

“Okay, hold on,” Kobra said with a calm tone. “It was just a suggestion, we’re not starting a band, okay? We’re not playing the warehouse show, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Why not?” Punk asked, almost disappointed. 

“Well, for one, we would have to finish the song by tomorrow night, which is asking too much,” Kobra explained. “And two, there’s a lot of security to cover in the warehouse.

We need everyone we can possibly get to work security. Walls make for a less-than-ideal environment.”

“Okay, well, what about the gorge?” Punk asked with new fire in his eyes. “That should give you tons of time!”

“Yeah I’m kinda with Kobra on this,” Ghoul said, plucking at his guitar. “We’re here for security, and the fans are there to see you guys.”

“Oh come on,” Mania said, rolling his eyes. “You guys think you don’t have fans? Party Poison’s song Summertime is one of the most requested bootlegs in the city.”

“What?” Poison stared at him, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

“According to our friend who works in music sales in the city, your song was a hit.”

Poison stared at the pages in his hands. People liked his song that much? It had to just be a coincidence, a side affect of him having that classic rock star’s voice, right? There was no way people coming to see the Mad Gear and Missile Kid would welcome a completely unknown band that wasn’t even the same genre. There was no way.

“Are you saying we could be making money off of that song?” Ghoul asked, looking up from his guitar. “Are you saying someone else is making money off of that song?”

“Bootlegs, so it’s not like they’re very good quality recordings.” Mania shrugged. “But yeah, I mean, if you came to the city and gave our friend an official recording he could start selling actual records of it and he would pay you guys.”

“Because money in the zones is so important,” Kobra muttered.

“Getting quality versions of that song to people is important,” Poison said suddenly. Kobra, Ghoul, and Jet all looked at him. “If your friend is making a killing off of bootlegs, then that song must’ve connected with people.”

“It had a lot of themes of running away,” Punk said thoughtfully. “Like this one that you’ve written. Maybe that’s what’s connecting with people?”

Poison stared at his page again. He did seem to write a lot about running away… He didn’t want to analyze where that was coming from just yet, but he could understand why people in Bat City would connect with that. Maybe they could try performing…

“I’ll think about it,” Poison said, startling the other Killjoys. “I’ll finish the song and figure out the rest of the instruments and… I’ll think about performing it.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kobra grumbled, glaring at Mania’s smug face. He turned away and put his bass back where it had been, then left the studio room, followed by Jet who had put away his guitar.

Ghoul stayed, staring at Poison. He wondered what was going through his head, but didn’t want to ask.

* * *

It turned out that they hadn’t actually made it all the way to the warehouse yet. They’d made it into Zone 5 on Feral Lanes, the major highway closest to the warehouse. Their problem was that the bus couldn’t drive off-road. They would have to use the cycles to get there. Another issue they had was that the equipment for setting up the stage was too heavy to carry that distance. 

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Mania asked, annoyed. He looked out the front windshield, the warehouse far in the distance. 

“We have to figure something out,” Tango said with an exhausted sigh. 

The Killjoys and Tango gathered around their map of the zones to figure out what they were going to do. It was a wonder they made it this far without thinking of how they would even make it to the warehouse. They considered the bus’s ability to make it off-road but Tango insisted they were on their last set of tires and didn’t want to risk losing one of them.

“I’ve got an idea,” Poison said, pointing to an area east of Feral Lanes. “There’s an old junkyard over here, the Transistor Sisters pick it pretty often for car parts. There could be a trailer or something that we could use.”

“But how?” Tango asked, frowning.

“Hitch it to a cycle?” Poison offered with a shrug. “Or something?”

“I could do that,” Kobra said thoughtfully. “With Tango’s tools I think I can figure something out.”

“Then let’s have three of us go scope out the junkyard,” Jet said, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Poison pulled the first cycle out and turned it on, making sure the engine was still working. Kobra was on the second, he pulled on his driving gloves and flipped on his sunglasses. Tango got on the third and lined up next to the two Killjoys. 

“You won’t be able to miss it once we get over that hill,” Poison called to Tango, pointing to the horizon. He pulled his dust goggles over his face. “The junkyard is huge and full of BLI’s unwanted shit.”

“Got it,” Tango called back.

Kobra sped off without waiting for them. Tango rushed to follow him. Poison stayed a moment and took a deep breath. He’d missed the desert, which he found odd since he hadn’t left it. But in a way, he’d been so wrapped up in his head lately it was like he was coming home. Time to drive fast, kick up dust, and go scrapping. 

Ghoul watched the huge smile spread over his face as he revved the cycle’s engine, then took off in a cloud of dust. His heart pulled a little, wishing he’d tried to go with them. He could’ve ridden on the back of Poison’s cycle, to add weight if nothing else. Ghoul flinched when Poison found a rock to do a jump off of. Crash Queen, through and through.

* * *

Destroya, he’d missed the desert! Poison couldn’t think of anything else with the wind whipping his hair around. His goggles gave him perfect visibility and he used it to do some silly tricks on the way to the junkyard. He knew he could catch up to Kobra and Tango if he had to, it wasn’t like they were driving as fast as they could go. 

Driving a cycle isn’t like driving a car, obviously. You’re much more exposed. In Poison’s Book of Crash Queenery, riding a cycle or a similar bike was a much more visceral and chaotic way to drive. There was nothing between you and the desert, nothing between you and a stray drac’s laser, nothing between you and the rocks in the gorge, nothing between you and certain and unforgiving death. It was exhilarating. It felt manic, he couldn’t stop smiling. In a car, you had a degree of separation between you and death, an agreement, if you will. An agreement that if death could find a way to get to you inside your car, then it could have you. On a cycle, all bets were off. It was you and death, side by side, playing a game. Catch me if you can, Poison thought, pulling to the side to ramp off another rock. 

In a car, you could appreciate what Poison called the Living Painting. The way the landscape looked when it was blurred together by the speed, going so fast but able to see it in slow motion. That was one of his favorite things about racing, that painting. On a cycle, that painting was a luxury you couldn’t get distracted by. You look at it a moment too long, death finds you. 

Tango and Kobra had finally reached the top of the hill, cresting over it and disappearing. Poison couldn’t stop himself from flooring the throttle and standing to pull the bike up with him, jumping over the hill with a loud and wild shout. Kobra ignored it, but Tango looked over his shoulder, eyes wide. Poison crashed back into the ground, and sped past them laughing. 

The junkyard was in view, barely a mile left to go. Poison got there first, doing donuts outside the front gate, waiting for Kobra and Tango. Once they got there, Kobra parked his cycle by the gate and Tango copied him. Poison did the same, but only after a last donut.

“Jesus, Ghoul wasn’t kidding about him,” Tango muttered to Kobra, seeing Poison’s dirty face when he took off his goggles. There were rings around his eyes where his goggles had been, and his hair was wild and all over the place.

“Yeah, don’t doubt what you hear from him,” Kobra said shortly. He pulled the gate open, the broken lock falling to the ground. 

In the junkyard they found remnants of old cars, picked clean by the Sisters no doubt. Kobra lingered on the first two cars that didn’t look completely empty, grabbing small parts to add to the trans am later. Poison shook the dirt out of his hair and started looking around for any kind of trailer they could affix to the back of the cycles. A flatbed would do, but he was hoping to find a larger covered trailer. Anything that could hide the contents and carry a lot of stuff.

Tango went to check around a pile of crushed cars. He climbed his way up a little ways just to get a better look at the junkyard. He was squinting at something that might be a trailer when a hand wrapped around his ankle.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted, pulling his ankle free from the loose grip. He looked down, ready to fight whoever had just touched him, when he froze in horror. It was a droid. Half their face was missing and the arm they’d grabbed him with was falling apart. He realized that the dark blotches covering the cars and scrap around them weren’t paint, but blood. Just as he was about to talk to them, tell them he would get them out and that they’d be okay, their eyes dimmed and they fell slowly and quietly onto the roof of a car.

“Tango?” Kobra called from around the pile he was on. “You okay?”

“Uh-” Tango took a breath, trying not to throw up. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.”

He found a torn cloth that was probably once used to cover cargo and pulled it free, draping it over the now dead droid. He didn’t want Poison to see them. As he climbed down from the pile he wondered how many other droids had been dumped in the junkyard by BLI.

“Found something!” Poison shouted excitedly, standing on top of the thing he found. 

It was a flatbed with two wheels and a gate around the bed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Kobra helped pull the thing free from where it was wedged under some scrap to examine it.

“Looks like the tires are damaged from the heat,” Kobra observed, kneeling to look closer at the condition of the cart. “That’s what I was worried about… But maybe if we can find some tires that haven’t been in the sun as much…”

“That would require digging through these mountains of garbage,” Poison pointed out, looking at one of said mountains with a grim expression. “Can’t we just, I don’t know, drive it on the rims?”

“We could…” Kobra was thinking hard about the situation. They needed tires, tires were always the number one thing zoners needed. They were too far from the Transistor Sisters so they couldn’t get spare tires from them, they weren’t close enough to the radio tower to swing by and look for spares, and they were on a time crunch. He had to think of something…

He stood and looked around the junkyard. Their options were limited. They could drive it on the rims, but there was no telling how well they would hold up. If the bolts were brittle, they could lose a rim and possibly the whole cart full of equipment. If only he had a way to…

“I think I’ve got an idea,” Kobra said. He looked around them at the piles of scrap. “I want you two to grab as much scrap metal as you can and bring it back to the bus.”

“What’s the plan?” Poison asked, hopping down from the cart. 

“I’m going to try to make new tires.” Kobra said it like it was simple, as if it was as easy as making paper airplanes.

“Uh, okay,” Poison barely stifled a laugh. “Whatever you say.”

Tango walked with Poison as they looked for good enough scrap metal to use. He was worried they would run into another droid. If BLI used this place as a dump, there would probably be no shortage of them here. 

They both gathered as much metal as their could stand to hold. Tango would hand the especially hot pieces that had been lying in the sun to Poison, since he could handle holding them for longer. The whole time they were searching, Kobra was considering the dimensions that the tires would have to be. He jotted them down on his arm since he didn’t have any paper with him. When Poison and Tango returned with lots of scrap metal, he was about to tell them they should head back when they heard rumbling coming their way.

“What the fuck is that?” Tango asked, looking around for the source.

“Fuck, why are they dumping in the middle of the day?!” Poison demanded, dropping down the hide behind the cart.

“I don’t know,” Kobra said quietly, copying him. He frowned when the rumbling got closer. “They’re only supposed to do that at night…”

Tango followed the two Killjoys, joining them in hiding behind the cart. He didn’t know what was going on. It wasn’t like he knew the city’s dumping schedule or what this meant for them. The uncertainty was unwelcome.

“…dump them over there, okay?” someone called over the growing rumble, now the growling hum of a BLI dump truck. 

“That’s fine, just be quick,” someone else answered. Their voices were muffled. Soldiers, not dracs. Dracs didn’t speak.

Poison craned his neck to peek over the cart and saw the dump truck, stark white against everything else. They were never that impactful in the dark. The truck was backing up, the back walled off to keep whatever contents inside it. It pulled to the current dumping port and started to open the door.

There was a moment before it opened, though, where everything stopped. Poison felt like everything around him froze, he even looked at Tango and Kobra to see if they had. He heard a voice that resonated in his chest.

“Do not look,” Destroya said. Her voice was authoritative yet grim. “My child, do not allow yourself this pain.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “What pain?” He asked in the frozen state of the world.

“Your brothers and sisters-” she said, voice catching. Poison’s eyes widened. Destorya was sad. 

He turned his head away and the world flowed back to normal. He heard the clash of metal into the dirt. He watched as Tango and Kobra took their own peeks, his heart pounding in his head.

Kobra gasped, turned back, and flattened his back against the cart. “Don’t look.”

Tango’s face contorted in horror and he fell backwards, dropping his collection of scrap to the ground and rolling over to retch. “Jesus fuck!”

The truck was full of bodies. Droids. Poison didn’t have to look to know. 

“What was that?” one of the soldiers asked the other. 

“Doesn’t matter,” the first one answered sternly. “She ordered us not to engage. Just focus.”

Poison’s head spun. She was alive? What did that mean? Ghoul had said that he’d probably killed Her, but he hadn’t been sure. And what did it mean that she told them not to engage? Engage with zoners? But She loved to go after them! Poison stared thoughtfully at the dirt, grabbing Kobra’s arm when he seemed to ready himself to get up and fight. Tango was about to do the same thing, but Poison kicked up and caught him in the stomach. He fell back onto his ass and stared in surprised rage at Poison. Poison fixed him with a serious look and shook his head. Kobra sat still, fuming.

When they were sure the truck was gone, Poison let Kobra go and Tango finally stood, looking everywhere but the new pile of bodies.

“What the fuck?!” Tango shouted. “What the fuck just happened?! Why didn’t you let me rip them to fucking shreds?!”

“There were two of them and three of us,” Kobra said angrily, staring down at Poison. “We could’ve taken them!”

“They wanted that,” Poison said calmly. He was still thinking it over, but it made the most sense to him…

“What?!” Tango kicked a broken piece of a car across the junkyard. “What the fuck are you talking about, did you see what they dumped?! They deserve to die!”

“I know what they dumped, that’s part of it,” Poison explained, standing up with them. He dusted himself off and grabbed the scrap from off the ground. 

“What do you mean?” Kobra asked, still upset. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the pile of droids.

“I mean,” Poison sighed heavily, “that that was planned. They knew zoners would- they knew I would be here. Somehow. They don’t just dump things like this in the middle of the day. They were here for a reason, and they were told not to engage with us. Someone planned this and was hoping for us to kill them for it.”

“How could you know that for sure?” Kobra asked. He was furious more than anything, wanting to twist a dagger or two in those soldiers’ backs.

“Because Destroya warned me.” Poison immediately checked for Tango’s reaction. People in the city thought them talking to gods was a story, something that wasn’t real.

Tango didn’t seem to register what he’d said right away, but then he stopped and stared at Poison. “What did you say?”

“Destroya warned me not to look,” Poison repeated. He matched Tango’s stare with intensity. 

“Y-you-” Tango’s mouth fell open. “You actually can talk to gods?”

“Yes, at least one of them,” Poison said. “But more importantly, I think she knew that if we all saw that we wouldn’t be able to hold back. You guys got angry, imagine how livid I’d have been…”

“You’re not mad?” Kobra asked.

“Oh, I’m mad,” Poison reassured. “I’m just having to keep myself from seeing it and really getting angry… Plus, it’s not like they’re the sole ones to blame, killing those two soldiers would do nothing.”

“It would take two evil assholes off the face of the earth,” Tango grumbled, picking up his scrap.

“It’s not like they couldn’t be reasoned with,” Poison argued, bristling. 

“What are you talking about? They’re corporate goons, as far as I’m concerned they’re deadmen walking anyway!” Tango scoffed.

Poison glared at him. He angrily took hold of the cart and started to haul it with him, easy for him and his artificial strength.

Tango watched him leave, then looked at Kobra, somewhat confused.

“Ghoul was a soldier,” Kobra muttered. “Asshole.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” 

Tango walked back with Kobra quietly after that. They managed to hook the cart up to the back of one of the cycles. Kobra wasn’t worried about losing the tires or the rims on the way back to the bus, it would only make the process of replacing the wheels easier for him. Poison took that to mean he was allowed to take his anger out on them, so he kicked the tires until they popped, then got onto the cycle it was tied to and sped off. Tango looked to Kobra, Kobra just shook his head.

* * *

Back at the bus, Ghoul watched the trails of dust come back over the hill. He let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, smiling when he saw they’d found a flatbed trailer thing. Not perfect, but more than they could’ve asked for. He only realized something was off when he noticed Poison wasn’t smiling anymore.

Poison was going back and forth about whether he should tell the others at all. It wasn’t important, it couldn’t be, they hadn’t even gotten into a fight. But the soldiers had mentioned Her, and something itched at him that Ghoul would want to know. But then again, he thought back to when they’d first met Mania and Punk. Ghoul and Mania had talked about Her, about how Ghoul had to stop trying to figure things out about Her. Maybe it would be best not to tell him. On the third hand, something about this whole situation was starting to feel really bad. This whole tour was going perfectly. They hadn’t even seen one drac or soldier during the concerts. At first it felt like they were lucky, sliding under the radar and able to finally relax a little, but after the dump truck Poison was starting to think that was intentional. He’d hoped they’d just had more important things to worry about, but what was more important than the zoners to BLI? They were dissidents, deserters, rogue anarchists who lived like coyotes in the desert beyond the safety of the city’s boundaries. So why didn’t it feel like that anymore? BLI had been working harder than ever to take them down, to ruin them, to go so far as to cause accidents in races to quiet them for even a month. Either something had become more important than quelling rebellion, or they were preparing for something. Neither possibility felt good to Poison.

He thought it over while he watched Kobra start to make these scrap metal tires, eventually coming to the conclusion that he had to tell everyone. If BLI was planning something, they had to be prepared. Plus, the more that he thought about it, the more he realized that the warehouse show would be a perfect place to attack them. The bus couldn’t follow them there and they didn’t have the trans am. They’d be dead out there pretty easily. 

Once Kobra and Tango had finished making the tires, which were almost perfectly circular, Poison finally got off the cycle where he’d been agonizing over his decision. The other Killjoys and the band had come out to see what they’d found and to help. Ghoul had simply watched Poison from where he sat against the bus.

“There’s something I think you all should know,” Poison said loudly, catching everyone’s attention. “While we were at the junkyard, BLI made a drop off.”

“In the middle of the day?!” Ghoul said, standing up.

“Of what?” Jet asked, making a face.

“That doesn’t matter,” Poison said, glancing at Kobra and Tango, who cast their gazes down. “What does matter is that the two soldiers who were operating the dump truck said that they were told not to engage any zoners… by Her.”

Ghoul and Mania both paled. Punk looked to Mania, concerned. Jet stepped forward.

“But why would she tell them that?” he asked.

“Exactly what I want to know,” Poison said, biting his lip. “Since when has rebellion been something BLI doesn’t engage with?”

“Fuck, I really wish Dr. D was here…” Jet sighed, running his hands through his hair.

This whole tour might be some huge waste of time, Poison realized. This whole thing might be something orchestrated somehow to build them all up before She tears them all down. But either way, going on with it or stopping it right now, BLI would get their wish. It felt inevitable.

“What does this mean for the tour?” Mania asked hesitantly. “Are we still going to play the warehouse knowing this?”

“We have to,” Poison said, startling everyone.

“What do you mean?” Ghoul asked, eyes wide. “It’s almost as dangerous as the Cannery, are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” Poison stared at him, willing him to hear what he was thinking. If they were right, the warehouse show would go flawlessly. If they were wrong, they would be in a warehouse full of zoners armed to the teeth and would take down whatever was waiting for them outside the warehouse. 

If they weren’t there already, Ghoul thought back. Poison blinked. This shouldn’t be possible. But it is.

“We’ll clear the warehouse,” Ghoul said, surprising everyone with how quickly he’d swung to Poison’s side. “If the warehouse is clear…”

“Then we know exactly what’s going on.” Poison finished for him, glaring out in the direction of the warehouse.

* * *

“Fired?” Korse echoed. The large board room was so quiet, the long white oval table empty save for him at one head of the table and the new CEO at the other.

“You sound surprised,” she said, still facing away from him and looking out the window into the city. They were on one of the lowest levels, the safest for the company’s CEO.

“You’ve been plotting to escape, haven’t you?”

Korse looked down at the table.

“I don’t care if you do,” she said, surprising him. “You can walk out right now. I’ve already fired you, after all. I’ll even open the upper gates for you.”

“But- why?” he asked, feeling uneasy. None of this felt good, it never did. 

“Because,” she laughed. “Who do you think is going to believe you up there?”

She spun around and Korse fixed his gaze on the table. He refused to look at her.

“You’re just going to walk out and say ‘I’m reformed! I’m not evil! You can trust me!’?!” She laughed, having to catch her breath after. “I mean, honestly! You’re better off applying for unemployment and rotting in the upper slums.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, but he knew she was right. No one would trust a scarecrow, no matter the circumstance. 

“Then by all means,” she said, grinning at him. “Save me the paperwork.”

* * *

They cleared the warehouse out before dinner, which they ate over a fire they’d made inside. The snack foods of the bus were starting to make them feel lethargic so they sat down with some real food. Desert lizards and pigeons. The Killjoys made a show of catching them, teaching Mania and Punk how to find them, then cook them properly. Tango joined in on the lessons on how to catch pigeons, since he was much better at lizard catching. By the end of their boy scout trip, they had enough food for all of them.

“Finally, a proper meal,” Jet sighed happily over his stick of cooked lizards.

“This is a proper meal?” Mania muttered, still surprised at how zoners had to live. 

“Yeah dude, you see any grocery stores out here?” Ghoul asked rhetorically. He took a large bite out of his lizard, making Mania grimace. “I mean, I guess the outpost and the gas stations kinda count but… they still only sell stuff in bags, cans, or boxes.”

“This shit’s the real deal!” Poison exclaimed, dropping down to sit with the rest of them. He threw a new stick of three lizards down into the fire to cook. “Thank Destroya, I have missed a good crispy desert lizard.”

“Beats poptarts for every meal,” Kobra agreed. He had a half smile on his face, a rare and genuine show of happiness.

“Does it?” Punk asked no one quietly. He stared at the lizards in the fire.

“It’s all about perspective,” Jet said with a wave of his hand.

They ate together and talked about the show. They would need one person walking the outside perimeter, one person on the roof, one person working inside checking the entrances, and then two people for stage management. There were no roads near the warehouse, so there weren’t any to check while the show went on. They agreed that Poison could handle the roof, Kobra would do the outside perimeter, Jet would be walking the route for both entrances, and Tango and Ghoul would stay at the stage. They would use their walkie talkies to give regular updates, even if it was just an all clear. 

They were in good spirits, despite the fact that they probably shouldn’t have been. The warehouse had been clear, which meant that BLI was planning something. The warehouse was essentially in the middle of nowhere, the roads around it mostly buried in sand and dirt, and it was like a beacon to BLI. A perfect place to round up zoners. If it was going to be a venue for something, drac squads would regularly show up and crash any party there was. That’s why it was used as temporary housing most of the time. Zoners could roll through, sleep a couple nights, then be on their way. If they stayed longer than that they risked being ambushed before they could get to their vehicles.

Since the warehouse was empty, not a sign of dracs in sight, Poison felt confident in his growing dread that something was being planned. The concerts had not been quiet, and the music they were blasting wasn’t any of that ancient hippie stuff. The Mad Gear and Missile Kid’s music was anti-authority, anti-establishment, anti-BLI. Overtly and loudly. If the city could hear them, BLI would have been on them before the first show had ended. But they hadn’t. So either the city couldn’t hear them, didn’t want to listen, or was allowing them to play. The last option felt the worst to Poison. An equally scary option was of course that they had bigger things to worry about.

“Alright, out with it,” Jet said suddenly, sighing. Everyone stopped chatting to each other, staring at him. He was looking at Poison.

“What?” he blinked. 

“You’re thinking about something.” Jet leaned back, propping himself up behind him. “I think I know what.”

“… I was thinking about BLI again,” Poison said after a beat of silence. “I just can’t stop thinking about what must be going on…”

“Like?” Kobra asked, taking a bite of his lizards.

“Either they’re letting us do stuff and waiting to pull something on us, or there’s something else taking their attention away from us and that’s more important than us.” Poison huffed and stared into the fire. “I can’t decide which is worse.”

“Well, first of all, there is nothing on this planet that is more important than the zoners to BLI,” Kobra declared. “There’s no doubt in my mind that that’s the case. What we should be thinking about is why they’ve changed their tactics.”

“But how can you be so sure?” Poison asked, looking up at him. “What if-”

“P, they’ve been running out of food and water for years,” Kobra interrupted. “They’ve been finding artificial ways to keep people alive instead of addressing the problems that are killing them. It’s why they steal children from their parents, why they can’t stand the idea of any rebellion, why giving any of them the middle finger is something you can get arrested for.”

Jet looked down at his lap. He knew too well the truth in that statement.

“So when it comes to whether they’re doing something nefarious to mess with us, the answer should always be assumed to be yes.” Kobra met Poison’s gaze with intensity.

“Because to them, this is a war. They tell the people in the city that they don’t care, that the zoners are simply rats, but they say that because they’re scared of what we can do and what we really have out here.”

“He’s right,” Ghoul said, somewhat quietly. Attention turned to him. “I mean… There’s no length they wouldn’t go to if it meant that zoners would die. They spin lies and do all this secretive work… They have a goddamn Secret Affairs department that deals specifically with keeping things broken topside in the city so that no one is ever truly comfortable out there.”

To the Killjoys’ surprise, Mania and Punk straightened up at that. 

“What?” Mania said.

“Are you serious?” Punk followed.

“Yeah.” Ghoul nodded, feeling odd about sharing his knowledge from when he was a soldier. “I used to get in fights with the manager of that department all the time, telling them to stop doing the outer districts so frequently… But anyway, Kobra is right, I don’t doubt him for a second. There is nothing more important than zoners to BLI. They’re the antithesis of everything they stand for. We are.”

Poison put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it once.

“Whatever their plan is, it must be something pretty bad,” Jet said. He was deep in his thoughts. “If they’re relying on us getting suspicious and investigating, it might be they want to trap us in the city or something…”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here,” Tango said suddenly. He’d been listening while munching on his lizards, now almost done with the three he’d been eating. “Whatever they’re planning doesn’t change the fact that we have a show tomorrow night. We can wrack our brains all night about it, or we can get some fucking shuteye and be ready for anything tomorrow.”

The group nodded, Poison turning to smile at him.

“And there’s no fucking way in hell we’re going to investigate the city,” Tango added, taking a final bite of his lizard and tossing the stick into the fire.

“On that, we can agree,” Ghoul said, turning back to his own food.

“You’d have to kill me,” Jet said dramatically, falling back against the dirty cement floor.

“I’d sooner throw myself off Dead Man’s Drop,” Kobra said, his tone lighthearted. But Mania still frowned to himself. Kobra never wanted to go back to the city, he never wanted to go back to the state of mind it put him in ever again. Battery City was toxic in every way.

* * *

“Who are you?” Korse asked, scrambling to find something to protect himself with. 

“I am the Phoenix Witch,” the woman said, draped in oddly colored garments, a large mask covering her face. “I am a protector of the zones. I help the living who die out here find their way to the other side.”

“Wh-what?!” Korse grabbed a plank of wood. He had never been outside the city without protection. Now that he had been fired and evicted, he felt helpless. He knew how to fight, but now he was up against, what, gods?! “I-I’m not dead!”

“No, you are not,” she said, chuckling. “I need your help.”

“Why?” Korse took a step away from her. “I’m a scarecrow, what could I be helpful for?”

“You _were_ a scarecrow,” she said, raising a finger at him. “And you can be helpful in making sure your old- ahem, housekeeper doesn’t die.”

Korse dropped the piece of wood, his heart skipping. “Y-you mean-”

“He is still alive, he is instrumental in destroying Better Living, and he needs your help,” she said with a nod.

“I can see him again?” he asked.

“No. You cannot. But you may be able to ensure that you do not become a weapon that destroys him.” The Phoenix Witch opened a portal next to her, making Korse jump. “If you come with me, my friend will explain everything.”

Korse ignored his scarecrow instincts that screamed at him to kill this woman and run. He walked through the portal, taking her wrapped hand and stepping into a familiar place. What the zoners called the Nest.

“Korse,” a voice boomed, reverberating inside his head. He spun to look at the giant robot half buried in the sand, one he’d heard legends about from the last of the wars. “The reformed scarecrow. It is wonderful to finally meet you.”

“H-how- wh-who-” Korse stuttered, hands shaking.

“Please, your questions will be answered in time,” Destroya said, and he knew her name because she let him know it. “Right now, I must ask of you something unimaginable.”

Korse swallowed, trying to keep up with everything that was happening. “How can I help? I want to keep G3- P-Party Poison safe.”

“I know you do. You must promise to let me finish my explanation before any more questions, alright?”

“I promise.” Korse sat in the sand in front of her. He was ready to leave behind the city, ready to find out just what the hell was going on in the zones and how to keep the people that he loved safe. He had no right to still call Party Poison someone he loved, but he did still love him. He wanted them all to be safe, because he had no other options anymore.

* * *

The day before, they’d made the decision to wait to bring the equipment over to the warehouse. They didn’t want to bring it all the way there just to be ambushed. So, the next day was the time to figure out how they would get the equipment from the bus to the warehouse. Obviously they would use the flatbed, but they still needed to hitch that to one of the cycles and then drive as much stuff as possible to the warehouse. How many trips they would have to take was more annoying than concerning, especially now that they knew the warehouse was clear. 

Kobra broke off a piece of one of the cycles so that he could turn it into a hitch for one of the other cycles. They were made for speed, not hauling trailers. Everyone else was split up, half the Killjoys at the bus and half at the warehouse with the band. Tango stayed with the bus to help load things onto the flatbed. 

“We ready to start moving shit?” Poison asked from where he sat on the cycle with the new amalgamation of metal that formed a hitch. 

“Just about,” Kobra said, making sure the trailer was firmly attached to the cycle. “Run a test drive for me?”

Poison fired up the cycle and started driving, finding that there was an initial tug holding him back but that it still drove fine. 

“Looks good,” Kobra said when he parked it back next to the bus. 

“Feels good,” Poison agreed. “Might be aware of how much stuff goes on it though, we don’t want to lose it.”

“Right,” Kobra sighed. He was fully ready for this to take all day. 

And it almost did. They did manage to get everything to the warehouse before sundown, though. On the last ride over, Kobra and Tango rode back with Poison on the trailer. Once they were all at the warehouse, they started setting up the stage. Some zoners showed up early and helped them finish setting up, which made the process so much faster. 

The band held a quick autograph session while the Killjoys and Tango got to their respective security areas. Poison positioned himself on the roof, able to look out and see both the city and the bus on the main highway. Kobra walked the outside perimeter, greeting zoners as they came in and watching the horizon. Jet walked a route inside that covered the whole building, including the second floor and all exterior doors to exterior stairwells. Ghoul and Tango were in front of the stage like usual, greeting familiar faces at the front line and making sure everyone understood what they expected of them. 

Once again, the show went off without a hitch. The Killjoys could tell that the concert goers were nervous about the show being in the warehouse, but everyone ended up having a great time anyway. Thankfully, they didn’t have any alcohol on hand, so the night ended in a way that everyone could remember. 

Everyone immediately got to work packing up the equipment, taking the most important stuff first and agreeing to finish taking the rest in the morning. They all actually got to climb into their bunks for once. Poison smiled at the roof of his bunk, so tired he was delirious, but so happy that they were able to have this chance to make other people happy. Who cared what BLI was doing, if it meant they were leaving them alone, he didn’t care.

* * *

The next show was at the gorge. They’d talked back and forth about whether it should be at the top or the bottom of the gorge. If they did it at the top of the gorge, they could risk people falling in where it wasn’t safe. If they did it at the bottom, they were in a very indefensible position if something happened. Though, they were starting to really doubt the possibility. Jet did warn them that they would have to haul all the stage equipment to the bottom of the gorge though, and that turned the tides. A performance on the edge of the gorge was just as impactful as it would be at the bottom, they decided. 

This time, Tango had no issues driving straight to the gorge. The time it took was all that stood between them and the show. It would take them a day or more to get there, since they were essentially on the other side of the zones. Tango started driving before everyone else had even woken up, downing a few cups of instant coffee and heading toward Eastpike. 

Poison woke up because of the rumbling of the bus, finding he once again would much rather be vertical than horizontal while they were driving. He climbed out of his bunk and stretched, hearing the rustling of someone else waking up in their bunk. After cracking his neck absurdly loudly, Poison went to the studio room to find Jet and Kobra doing laundry.

Kobra had a bucket between his knees where he was bent over, scrubbing Poison’s black tank top against something that looked like some of the leftover scrap metal they’d collected. Jet was hanging up clothes that had been washed on a microphone cord he seemed to have stapled to the ceiling. They both looked at him as he entered the room.

“What the fuck is all this?” Poison asked, a confused smile spreading across his face.

“You and Ghoul’s dirty clothes weren’t cleaning themselves,” Kobra said, going back to vigorously scrubbing the top. “I made a washboard.”

“That looks exhausting,” Poison commented, sitting down on the couch and looking up at the dripping clothes hanging from the ceiling. “Is the band gonna be upset about those, uh, staples in the ceiling?”

“They come out,” Jet said simply, hanging up Poison’s jeans. 

Poison just shrugged. “I guess that’s true.”

He watched them finish washing the laundry and hanging it from the ceiling before offering up his idea for what they could do for the day.

“I had an idea,” Poison started, eyeing Jet as he flopped onto the couch next to him.

“Oh no,” Kobra muttered, taking the bucket of dirty water to pour down the sink.

“What’s your idea?” Jet asked reluctantly.

“Why are you two like this,” Poison huffed. “I want to finish that song!”

“Oh thank god,” Kobra sighed, stumbling back in to lay on the ground, arms splayed out beside him. “My arms are jello.”

“Well, solidify them by the time I need you to lay down bass lines.” Poison kicked him lightly in the hand, the only part of his body he could reach while sitting on the couch. 

Poison grabbed the notebook he had been working out of from where it sat next to the couch and opened it. Jet handed him a pen from the other side of the couch and he started working. He considered the lyrics he already had and the possible tone of the song he could go for with other ones. While he did this, Kobra stayed laying on the floor with his arms stretched out at his sides, slowly catching his breath and staring up at the clothes stapled to the ceiling. 

At some point, Ghoul walked in, morning poptarts in hand, and Poison pointed at him. He froze and stared at him.

“Get a guitar,” Poison said, not looking up from the notebook. “Need you to play something for me, see if it works.”

“Yes, sir,” Ghoul said, jokingly saluting and then rushing to grab the nearest guitar.

By the time Mania and Punk woke up, Jet and Kobra had joined in. Kobra’s arms were still tired but he was able to play. Jet sat next to Poison and helped him work out the guitar lines. The band walked in as they were testing the bridge to the song. 

“Whoa, that sounds awesome,” Punk said, turning their attention toward him. “Is that the same song?”

“Yeah, we’re figuring out the bridge,” Jet explained, waving a notebook page full of notes so they could see.

“You mean I’m figuring out the bridge,” Ghoul said pointedly, playing the part again.

“Are you guys going to play at the gorge?” Mania asked, eyes lighting up at the idea. He could see it all, the fireworks, the banners, the lights, the crowd…

“I’m not so sure about that,” Poison said hesitantly, spinning on his stool. “I- I’m not sure it’ll work, you know?”

“No, I don’t, explain,” Mania said exhaustedly. Kobra glared at him.

“Well- the Mad Gear and Missile Kid have such a distinct sound, you know? And we don’t sound like that…” Poison looked at his notes, unsure.

“Welcome to every band ever,” Mania remarked, ignoring Kobra’s glare, which was growing in intensity. “Nobody sounds like us. Nobody ever will! But that shouldn’t stop you from being able to play music. Imagine if someone made an album and then everyone just decided to never make music again because it would never sound like that again. That doesn’t make sense, right?”

“… Yeah, I know…” Poison still didn’t look up, biting his lip at his notes. They sounded really different than MGMK. The crowd might hate them.

“Hey, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you play?” Mania asked, nudging his shoulder. “What’s the worst thing you can think of?”

“They hate the song, they boo us off stage,” Poison said imagining that exact scenario.

“Exactly.” Mania made a satisfied face. “And what would you do if they did that?”

Poison looked up at him, confused.

“Would you stop playing? Would you never play music ever again?”

“… No,” Poison said, eyebrows knitting together at the thought. He wanted to make music regardless of who liked it.

“Exactly,” Mania said again. “So what would you do if people started booing you on stage?”

“Tell them to fuck off,” Poison said suddenly, looking off into the distance. “I’d tell them to get the fuck over it.”

“Exactly!” Mania smiled and patted him on the back. “And then keep on playing, red!”

Poison looked newly confident, and went back to barking orders at Ghoul. They had a show to play, after all! Jet smiled slightly, looking to Kobra, but faltered when he saw Kobra’s frown. Kobra knew more about Mania than any of them, and if he didn’t like what he was saying then Jet was unlikely to disagree with him. But Kobra didn’t say anything, he just went back to playing the bass to Ghoul’s guitar.

* * *

About halfway to the gorge, they stopped for gas at the Zone 3 gas station. While Tango got gas, the Killjoys raided the abandoned convenience store for more snacks and drinks. Against the other Killjoys’ objections, Poison grabbed a small case of Go Juice. The last time he drank it was when he was on the train, so when he saw it he got excited. They wouldn’t get any more after this, he promised them. The other Killjoys shared wary looks, but agreed anyway. If it wasn’t mixed with Battery Acid then it wouldn’t do much damage, they thought.

Once the band had stretched their legs and Tango finished gassing up the bus they all got back on and started driving again. This time, though, Tango tapped out to sleep. Ghoul took over for him, familiarizing himself with the bus’s oddly long steering wheel and gearshift before leaving the parking lot. Then they were on the road again headed for the gorge. Eventually, it got too dark to drive safely. You didn’t want to drive headfirst into the fucking thing, and the road led right up to it. 

Ghoul parked them on the road and moved back to the living room section of the bus. When he didn’t see anyone there, he moved to the bunks where he found Tango still snoring loudly. He moved further back until he got to the studio, opening the door to the sound of music and Poison’s perfect voice. Only it sounded way more chaotic, and they weren’t playing the song they’d been working on. Jet had fuzz and distortion on his guitar and Punk was playing the drums faster and louder than before. Mania was playing the other guitar.

“ _The kids don’t care if you’re alright, honey/Pills don’t help but they sure are funny/Gimme gimme some of that vampire money, come on!_ ” Poison sang, bouncing around to room and kicking the table. 

They all realized Ghoul was there at the same time, tapering off in their playing until Poison angrily spun around at them. 

“What the fuck?!” he shouted, then saw Ghoul too and then smiled. His eyes were bright pink. “Oh hey! You gotta play this! Come play!”

“Did you drink Go Juice?” Ghoul asked, letting Poison pull him to switch places with Mania. Poison suddenly looked like he was in trouble, frowning and stepping back from him.

“Uh, maybe,” he said, making a face. “Whatever, though. This song is righting itself!”

Ghoul took the guitar without protest, nodding to Mania. “What do I play?”

Poison gave him the music sheet and then hopped back over to the area he’d been in before. Then they started to play again, starting with Punk on the drums. They played the song fast and loose, per Poison’s direction since he said it made it sound better, not paying too much attention to mistakes and improvising often. Ghoul hardly listened to the lyrics and just played, finding that it was actually incredibly fun to play. Soon he was jumping around with Poison. By the end of the song they were all into it, thrashing around. When they finished the song, Poison collapsed on the floor and Ghoul followed him, dropping to his knees as he played the last note.

“We have to play that at the show,” Poison said, panting. “That’s a fucking keeper.”

“That was fucking awesome,” Jet said excitedly. He was also breathing pretty heavily as he put away his guitar.

“Jesus it felt like we were possessed,” Kobra laughed, pushing his hair back from his face. “You’re right P, we have to play that at the show. People will love it.”

They all agreed it had to be played at the gorge show. Mania then told them it was probably time to sleep, so the Killjoys made their way to the bunks, still buzzing from the energy of the song.

* * *

The next day, Tango started driving again. They were close enough that they could see the gorge finally. While they finished the drive there, Poison talked with everyone else about the final touches for the songs to be played live. He decided they should play Summertime because everyone would know it, then Bulletproof Heart, and lastly Vampire Money, the new song they’d just finished, because it was the most like MGMK’s music. 

“I’m really excited for you guys to open for us!” Punk said, hopping onto the couch in the living room space. “You guys are going to rock.”

“Helps that you have a seasoned veteran,” Mania commented, sitting next to Punk and eyeing Kobra. Kobra glared at him as he walked to the front of the bus to check on where they were.

“I’m fuckin’ nervous,” Poison said, sitting on the other couch. He and Ghoul had finally gotten their clothes back, freshly clean and stiff from air-drying. “I don’t know how people are going to react. What if they really like it? Will we have to start performing like you guys?”

“You guys should open for us all the time,” Mania said as Kobra walked back into the room.

“We have more important things to do than play concerts,” Kobra said sharply, then turned to the other Killjoys. “We’re almost there so make sure you eat something before we start hauling shit around in the heat.”

“Yes sir,” Ghoul said jokingly, stepping past him to get a bottle of water. Jet followed him and grabbed a packet of poptarts too. 

Poison shot Kobra a confused look but didn’t say anything as he came over to sit next to him. 

They rolled to a stop not too far from the edge of the gorge, Tango parking them in the street like usual. They all got out into the scorching sunlight to take the equipment to a relatively safe area by the edge of the gorge to set up the stage. They had everything set up just before sundown, as usual, and zoners started showing up in droves. The band met them all and took whatever payment they could offer, which this time ended up being quite a lot of food rather than carbons. They were grateful nonetheless, stashing the food in the bus while the Killjoys set up for their short set.

Looking out at the crowd from the stage, Poison felt himself freeze. He didn’t know how to do this, he suddenly realized. He’d watched every concert MGMK had done and he had retained nothing about how to talk to a crowd or how to open a show. He watched people’s confused yet excited eyes fall on them as the band finished taking money to let people join the concert. He kept staring at them until Punk finally made his way on stage to sit at the drums, tapping his mic.

“Hey everyone!” Punk said loudly, making people cheer back. “We have an extra special treat for you tonight, as you can probably tell.”

The crowd cheered sparsely, still wanting to hear what he was saying.

“Today, the zones’ own amazing team of protectors the Killjoys are going to open up for us!” he shouted, prompting the crowd to cheer loudly in response. “You may have heard a song made by the redhead in in the front called Summertime?”

The crowd cheered and surged toward the stage.

“Oh good! They’re going to play that for you tonight, and a couple new cuts!” Punk smiled at Poison, who turned around to stare wide-eyed at him. “They’re new to performing though, so give them lots of encouragement!”

The crowd cheered, shouting and screaming positive things at them.

“You ready?” Punk asked off the mic to Poison and the other Killjoys. 

Ghoul walked over to put a hand on Poison’s shoulder, shaking it to try and help him snap out of it. Kobra did the same, bringing Jet over too to do a sort of huddle. They all held hands, then broke apart. Poison sipped on a can of Go Juice and then turned back to the crowd, heart pounding. He shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them back up and looked out at the excited zoners with renewed determination.

“Are you ready?” Poison asked, and the crowd exploded in cheers. “Thanks for letting us try this out tonight, I know you paid for the Mad Gear and Missile Kid, and I promise you’ll get them.”

Punk playfully hit the drums behind them.

“But I was thinking earlier in this tour, about making music and reaching people,” he said, feeling his hands shaking. “And about loving people, and how important that is out here.”

The crowd cheered in agreement.

“Looking out at you guys, all I see is families. In one way or another, we’re all family out here. I love all of you like that, and I want to protect you when you need it.” Poison looked out at the people in the crowd, allowing himself to see past the ocean of faces and forcing those faces not to blur together. He saw faces that had been at earlier shows and new ones, faces that all looked weathered and worn in different and similar ways. “Every one of you is worth protecting. Every one of you is something fucking magical.”

People cheered, raising their drinks.

“And if I can protect you with words, with music, I’ll do that too.” Poison took a breath, trying to stop himself from rambling on. There was a whole other show that had to happen after them. “So, we have three songs for you, and the first one is one you probably know.”

The crowd made noises of agreement.

“It’s called Summertime, and it’s about- well, a lot of things. But mostly it’s about-” he stopped himself, thinking of everything he wrote that song about, the person he wrote that song about, and how utterly stupid he was to not be back in a relationship with said person right now. “Mostly it’s about him.”

The crowd equal parts gasped and cheered when he pointed at Ghoul. Ghoul had frozen and started to blush, looking down at his guitar to hide his face.

“He taught me a lot about what it really means to love someone. He taught me that sometimes, it’s soft and gentle and just sitting with someone.” Poison smiled at him when he looked back up. “And I’m super embarrassing him right now, so I’m sorry.”

The crowd laughed.

“We’ll play some fucking music now, sorry to get sappy.” Poison ran a hand through his hair and waved to Punk to start them off.

When the music started, the crowd surged forward again. Tango and Mania were at the front of the stage working security. They’d totally abandoned a plan for extended security, they apparently didn’t need it anymore.

Poison almost fucked up the lyrics when he heard people singing along with him. Seeing them hold each other, their friends and partners, singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs with him, it made his heart ache. During the bridge, Poison had to turn away while Jet played his solo, wiping tears from his eyes. Music was powerful, he reminded himself.

As the song ended, they had a moment where Jet started to play the intro to Bulletproof Heart and everyone got excited again, screaming for whatever this new song was.

“Okay, so this song,” Poison started, catching his breath. “This song is called Bulletproof Heart. It’s about a lot of stuff too, and it’s more about you guys than anyone else, okay?”

The crowd cheered and surged forward again, forcing Tango and Mania to shove some people back.

“Don’t step on each other!” Poison said as the song started.

Nobody knew this song, but Poison hadn’t expected people to have the reaction they did. They cried, hearing the words and feeling the music and finding some meaning from their own lives to apply it to. Music was powerful.

By the end, people were managing to catch along to some of the words and sing them back to them. Poison loved seeing his songs connect with people in real time. He was sure they would have to at least play the rest of these shows.

“Okay!” Poison said loudly after taking a quick break for water and more Go Juice. “This last song is a bit faster, I promise!”

People cheered. They were still pulling themselves together somewhat, one girl having to leave the front to go have a teary conversation with one of her friends.

“For this song, I want you to grab the nearest energy drink and down the fucking thing, because this song is going to be similar to the band you’re actually here to see!” Poison downed his own Go Juice, seeing some people in the crowd to the same and others frantically asking around for one. “This song is called Vampire Money!”

The crowd screamed in excitement as Punk started off with the fast drum beat. 

The only way to describe how they played this song was that the Killjoys lost their fucking minds. As soon as the first words were sung, “3, 2, 1, we came to fuck!” the crowd lost their minds and so did they. Poison had lost all previous stage fright, jumping around the stage with Ghoul and sometimes Jet. Kobra kept to himself, trying not to get hit by Ghoul as he jumped and slid and rolled. All of them turned into different people during that song, possessed, as Kobra had said when they’d first played it.

By the time it was over, Poison twisted his ankle and rolled onto his back shouting unintelligible words into the mic as the song crashed to its end. Ghoul hit the last note of the song so hard he broke a string on the guitar. The crowd roared louder than they’d ever heard before, so loud that Poison was momentarily concerned that Bat City might actually hear them from out here.

Poison barely remembered handing the stage to Mania and Punk, head spinning from the rush of everything. People in the crowd treated them like celebrities, asking them to sign their MGMK merch. The Killjoys all agreed, somewhat numbly, unable to really comprehend that they were this famous. More than a handful of people asked if they had CDs of their songs or any kind of recording. Every one of them was disappointed when Poison said no, but he quickly followed up with the fact that he was going to work with someone in the city to properly record music so that people could buy it. The Killjoys eyed him with surprise the first time he did this, but eventually they agreed. There were too many people their music connected with, they had to at least properly record the three songs they’d made. Secretly, Poison wanted to record a whole album if he could.

* * *

After the gorge show, there were conversations to be had. First, Poison had a talk with Punk and Mania about their record producer friend in the city. They agreed to contact him and see if he would be willing to record a zoner album and get back to the Killjoys when they could. Second, Poison talked with the other Killjoys about recording a full album instead of just a collection of the songs they already had. Kobra was the only one who seemed hesitant, but they all agreed.

Finally, Poison and Ghoul had to sit down and talk about their relationship again.

“So, you know that whole, wait for me thing?” Poison said, shutting the door to the studio behind them softly. The band and the other Killjoys were milling about around the rest of the bus, decompressing after putting all the stage equipment away and having the two previous conversations.

“Yeah?” Ghoul said, sitting on one of the spinning stools.

“I- ugh, how do I say this?” Poison muttered, sitting across from him on another stool. “I think- I think I know what I want, now.”

Ghoul looked slightly confused, but amused.

“I think before, I thought that- that someone had to be a whole, complete, healed person to be able to fully commit to a relationship. I thought that because that’s who I was pretending to be before, when we were together.” Poison stared at his hands folded in his lap. He picked at his nails. “When I realized that I wasn’t that person, that I was actually cracked and fragmented and lost in a lot of ways, I thought that I had to break up with you. Also, of course, the whole thing with feeling the complexity of all my relationships at once, which was overwhelming.”

Ghoul just listened, spinning back and forth on his stool silently.

“But weirdly, it’s gotten less overwhelming. I’ve stopped feeling like it’s all foreign or like it shouldn’t be there. I’ve started to feel- I think, more human.” Poison cracked his knuckles. “Playing this show, I think it’s helped me realize something else, too. That everyone has overwhelming emotions, that everyone has some kind of crack or fragment, and that no one, especially in the zones, is a whole, complete, healed person. We’re scattered like rose petals across the dark, damp streets. Tumbling like dry tumbleweeds down the long desert roads. And that can be a really lonely existence.”

Ghoul held his tongue, though he wanted to comment on how fucking poetic Poison could be at the drop of a hat.

“But again, this show helped me realize that it doesn’t have to be. We could all lose each other in an instant, and we risk our lives every day for each other so that we might be able to see each other again one day. I think I forgot why I loved you, forgot how it started and why you were someone so special to me that I wouldn’t take a bullet for you, but that I would dodge them with the hope that I might come home to you with a story instead of a gunshot wound.” Poison was staring at him now, eyes full of emotion. Ghoul tried to sit still, to wait for him to get to the fucking point so he could kiss him. “But I’m pretty sure I remember now. I remember all the magic you brought into my life, and I’m sorry I put you through so much pain. I’m sorry I cheated on you, and I’m sorry I broke up with you. I’m sorry for asking you to wait, for thinking that all I’d have to do was fix every problem I have before I was worthy of dating you again.”

Ghoul laughed at that, and it cracked the heavy mood. Poison laughed too, feeling tears still well up in his eyes. 

“I’m done waiting if you are,” Poison said finally, standing up from his stool.

“Thank you for apologizing,” Ghoul started, standing up too. “And I accept all of them. I was willing to wait a lifetime for you. I still would if you changed your mind. You’re such a fucking amazing person, Party Poison, that I don’t know if this god-forsaken world deserves you.”

Poison laughed again, but it was muffled by Ghoul’s mouth. Ghoul held him in a kiss for a long moment, feeling tears stream down his cheeks. When he pulled away, Poison took a breath and wiped his eyes.

“Thank you for telling me all that. I’m not as poetic as you can be sometimes, but I don’t need fancy words to say I love you more than anything else in the world.” Ghoul held his face close. “You mean everything to me. I hope this doesn’t come off as rude, but I don’t give a shit it you’re fragmented or cracked.” 

Poison chuckled, sniffling.

“You’re someone who deserves to be loved, in every way.” Ghoul wiped his eyes for him, then took his hands. “Will you be my person?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Poison said jokingly, but inside his heart was pounding. 

“… Yeah, I think I am,” Ghoul said, eyes widening. He hadn’t realized it, but that’s exactly what he wanted. He didn’t want a boyfriend, he wanted a lifetime partner. Though, husband sounded a little odd to him, a little too official.

“Where’s my fuckin ring then?” Poison said, laughing and hugging him.

“Ah shit!” Ghoul shouted playfully, patting his jeans. “I must’ve lost it during the show!”

“Wow, proposing to a guy without a giant diamond, you have a lot of confidence,” Poison teased, hugging him tight around his neck and resting his head on his shoulder.

“What if the guy is more precious than any gem I could find?” Ghoul said dramatically, squeezing Poison around his middle. “What if every stone I found was so dull in comparison that I couldn’t bear insulting him with one?”

“Oh wow, you turned that around fast,” Poison pulled back to kiss him. “But I do want a ring.”

“Really?” Ghoul’s eyes were bright.

“At your earliest convenience.” Poison kissed him one more time before suddenly freezing. He slowly turned to look at the door. “… did you hear that?”

Ghoul was staring at the door, too, expression annoyed “I did.”

Suddenly, Jet threw the door open, letting Kobra and the band tumble through on top of each other. Jet was already crying, hopping over the pile of idiots and running over to hug them both. Eventually Kobra made his way over too, followed by Mania, Punk, and Tango.

“Eavesdroppers!” Poison shouted, laughing as Jet crushed him in a hug.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” Jet cried, pulling Ghoul closer to squish him too.

They ended the day with a celebratory lizard hunt for dinner. Over their campfire, Poison and Ghoul told the band about how they’d met, how they shared dreams, and how they could, indeed, talk to gods. They figured that knowing that the protectors of the zones existed could only help zoners keep the faith and not lose hope. Mania and Punk seemed amazed that the stories they’d heard were real, and Tango remembered when Poison had said Destroya had warned him in the junkyard. There were many protectors, they learned that night. At one point, Tango pointed out that the Killjoys were living protectors of the zones, and that they were sure to become gods one day. The Killjoys treated it like a joke, but Poison wondered to himself if that would actually be possible. 

At the end of the night, when they all went to bed in their bunks, Tango threw the junk in the back room off the bed and into the studio, saying that Poison and Ghoul could have the room if they wanted it for now. Ghoul almost refused, but Poison covered his mouth and happily accepted, dragging him off with a devilish grin. Tango laughed at Ghoul’s surprised face as the door shut.

* * *

The show at the Transistor Sisters’ clubhouse had a completely different energy to it. They’d gotten there so much quicker now that they’d figure out how to get their equipment from the bus to venues off the main highway. The Killjoys had worked on a handful of song ideas while on the two-day-long drive to the clubhouse. When they actually got there they were met with hugs and punches from the Sisters and the stage was set up in barely two hours with everyone helping. When the Killjoys played, Poison gave a similar speech to last time, emphasizing how important it was to love each other because tomorrow wasn’t promised. This time when they played the other two songs, some people already knew the words and sang it with them. There was a kind of magic in the show, a kind of magic that Poison hoped stuck around for them. 

After the Killjoys’ show and before MGMK, the Sisters shared their stashes of desert weed, snacks, and their special home brewed drink called Engine Oil with the crowd.   
The MGMK concert felt electric, striking like lightning with crackling thunder. Mania and Punk were putting on a real show for the people who had come all the way out to the Sisters’ clubhouse.

When their show was done, and when all the crowd had dissipated, the band retired to the bus while the Killjoys caught up with the Sisters. It had been a long while since they had talked, and the Killjoys were happy to see that they seemed stronger than ever. Betty Bazooka and Royal Roadrunner had made up since the incident with the Zone 2 outpost owner, and the other Sisters didn’t seem to have any other infighting issues. Terrible Honey had finally finished building her own car, which she showed to a very excited Kobra. She and him had a long and quiet talk about the car as she showed him all the things she’d added to it. Akai Sora was pretty quiet, as usual, but did stop to comment that she had come up with the recipe for Engine Oil, since they kept complimenting it. Killer Kween told them, in her deeply southern accent, about her new boyfriend, which shocked the Killjoys more than anything.

“I thought you all were gay,” Poison blurted out, staring at her in shock.

“Nah, just about ninety percent of us,” Kween laughed. She threw her blond hair over her shoulder and relaxed back in her chair. “But no, I’m straight as a ruler.”

“Are we gonna gossip about your boyfriend now?” Jet asked playfully, sipping his drink.

“If you want to, I can tell y’all about how we first met,” she said, but then pursed her lips. “He probably doesn’t want me gossipin’ about him though, he’s like me, pretty private.”

“Aw lame,” Poison groaned, grabbing a fist full of chips. “You guys are the only straight people I know now! I want all the juicy hetero gossip!”

“Poison, I’m straight,” Jet deadpanned at him, leaning to look at him.

Poison froze and turned to stare at him, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding… Really?!”

The Sisters and the Killjoys (minus Poison) all exploded into laughter. Poison’s face got red as they did, trying not to laugh too.

“Fuck! They really can be anywhere!” Poison shouted, throwing his hands up over his head. “Damn heteros can hide in plain sight!”

“Does it change the way you think about me?” Jet said, more jokingly than serious, reaching out to take his hand dramatically.

“Of course it does!” Poison shouted, ripping his hand away. “You’ve fucked a girl!”

“Christ, you could be a little nicer with how you say that,” Ghoul muttered, rolling his eyes and laughing. 

“Of course it would seem gross to you.” Jet stuck his tongue out at Poison. “You’re engaged to a dude.”

And with that sentence, the whole room went dead silent. Of course, until Betty squealed louder than the tires on a car spinning out. The Sisters were all suddenly there, hugging and squishing Poison and Ghoul.

“Holy shit!” Betty yelled, crushing Poison’s head against her chest. “Congratulations!”

“Can’t- breathe-” Poison croaked out, but still patting her shoulder.

“Engaged?!” Sora said suddenly, pulling away from her stranglehold on Ghoul. “With what ring?!”

“Uh, I didn’t have-” Ghoul started, but then was slapped across his face and stunned.

“How dare you not come to me for it!” Sora scolded. “Idiots! I don’t have the zones’ only jewelry store for fucking show! Ring sizes, now!”

Jet and Kobra laughed as she pulled Poison and Ghoul by their wrists toward her workshop within the clubhouse.

Sora had always made jewelry, often times jewelry that had uses other than just looks. She made bottle opener rings, laser light bracelets to scramble BLI scanners, mini-EMP earrings that could put down a whole square mile of BLI tech, and much more. But she also made jewelry that was purely just jewelry. Her favorite thing to make was sentimental pieces, things like Roadrunner’s crown that was made of pieces from the first car she’d crashed while winning a race. Betty had designed it and given the plans to Sora. That crown was essentially Betty’s engagement ring for Roadrunner. Now that two of the Killjoys were getting married, it really would’ve been insulting not to contact her for their rings.

“It was really spontaneous,” Ghoul said apologetically, letting her throw them down onto the couch in her workshop.

“If we had planned it we would’ve contacted you,” Poison said, picking his nails anxiously. The last thing they needed was to get on the Sisters’ bad side. 

But Poison’s worries were unwarranted, that was made clear by how happy Sora looked when she spun around in her chair to face them, hands clasped in front of her face. 

“Ah, I’m so excited to make these!” she exclaimed, mostly to herself. “I’ve been predicting you two would need them, and of course I knew you would come to me for them.”

She pulled out her tools from her large desk, what looked like a variety of sizing tools to be able to measure the circumference of someone’s finger. There were plastic rings with numbers on them, a cloth measuring tape, and a tool that looked like it measured small widths. 

“Who’s first?” she asked, holding out a hand.

* * *

While Poison and Ghoul were back getting an impromptu engagement ring sizing and consultation, Kobra and Jet were still out talking with the Sisters. They’d switched gears, the talk somehow shifting to BLI.

“Haven’t seen them around much,” Roadrunner said thoughtfully. “It’s been weird, races are silent…”

“Even the junkyard is dead,” Honey added. “I went there recently with Betty later than usual, but we never saw a truck come to dump anything.”

“We’ve been having a similar experience,” Jet said, staring into his cup with a frustrated expression. “We played the warehouse with not so much as a searchlight from the city.”

All the Sisters eyes widened. 

“That’s actually super fucking concerning,” Betty said, frowning. “What the hell is going on with them?”

“Better question is, what are they planning?” Kobra said biting his nails. “It’s really starting to bother me the longer this goes on.”

“Yeah, like, when is the other shoe going to drop?” Honey said, twisting the hem of her oversized bomber jacket. It hung on her like a tarp, her small frame swallowed whole. 

“Some kinda hellish mind game,” Kween sighed. “To me, that sounds like nothin’ new.”

“True, but they’ve never been silent for this long,” Jet said. He picked at his lip absently, staring at the coffee table in front of them. “It must be something that’s taking a lot of resources.”

“Resources that are already slim, mind you,” Kobra commented. “I don’t like it either, but it really can’t be much worse than what they’ve done in the past.”

“They’ve done some pretty bad stuff in the past,” Honey said quietly, looking at the door Poison and Ghoul had gone through. “They could do something really horrible.”

“Don’t worry, Honey,” Kween said, in a tone that Jet and Kobra could only place as motherly. “Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. I don’t want you gettin’ worry lines while you’re still so young.”

“Kween, this is more important the worry lines,” Roadrunner snapped. “We need to prepare for the worst case scenario, just in case.”

“And what is the worst case scenario?” Kween asked back, raising an eyebrow. “What the hell do we know about what they’re capable of, really? They’ve got enough resources to keep themselves running every year, how do we know they haven’t been fighting us with their kid gloves? Do you even know what their worst looks like?”

“This is not making me feel better,” Honey said, staring at the floor.

“That’s the point,” Roadrunner grumbled. “We need to prepare for something we could never expect.”

“How do you even do that?!” Kween shouted, finally fed up with the conversation. She stood, angrily throwing her drink down. “You can’t expect us to prepare for something when we don’t even know what to prepare for!”

“Okay, let’s all simmer down,” Betty said warningly. “I’m starting to get a headache. Let’s leave this until tomorrow, when we don’t have the Killjoys to fight in front of, hm?”

“They brought it up!” Kween yelled, kicking an empty can and storming off toward her car, where she sat down in a huff and started working on something that probably didn’t need working on.

“I’m sorry,” Betty said to Jet and Kobra. “We’ve actually had a conversation about it before, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s okay,” Jet said, sighing. “I kind of agree with Kween. How are we supposed to prepare for something like this?”

“We can’t,” Kobra said, annoyed. He was glaring at the coffee table. “That’s the point.”

“Oh!” Honey exclaimed suddenly. Everyone looked at her, startled. “S-sorry! I just thought- maybe if someone went undercover in the city-!”

“Absolutely not,” Betty and Jet and Kobra all said at the same time.

“Not me, obviously!” Honey groaned, rolling her eyes. “But like- someone who knows the city really well and who could get themselves into places where they could, I don’t know, talk to people and hear things about what’s going on!”

“… How about we shelve that idea for now,” Roadrunner said carefully. “I’m not shooting it down, you’ve had plenty of crazy ideas that have worked out before, but in this case doing that might be walking right into BLI’s trap.”

“I’ve thought the same thing,” Kobra said. “It feels like they want us to investigate.”

“Dream on, Bat City,” Betty scoffed. “I’d have to dragged in in a body bag.”

“Ditto,” Jet said.

Honey looked at them all, frustrated. “But maybe that’s what we need to do, you know? Maybe we should go looking for what’s going on in the city! People live there too, maybe they’re doing something horrible to them!”

“They’ve been doing horrible things to them, Honey,” Ghoul said, suddenly in the room after walking out from Sora’s workshop. Poison was at his side, looking at Honey sadly. Sora was presumably still in her workshop, getting right to work on the two most important rings of her career. “It’s no question that BLI uses their people for experiments and forces pills down their throats in the name of keeping the peace. I know you want to help people, but sneaking into the city right now could get you killed.”

“Then we have to do something before they do!” Honey declared with renewed determination. “We have to storm the city or something, force them to-!”

“Absolutely not,” Betty said again. “Honey, we can’t do anything about what they choose to do. If we’re lucky, whatever they’re doing doesn’t even have to do with us.”

“Doubt that…” Kobra muttered.

“But we can’t just-! We can’t just sit and wait!” Honey shouted, surprising everyone. She was always very quiet, she had never yelled to any of their knowledge. “They’re planning something big, and none of you want to find out what it is?! None of you want to stop them before they can hurt more innocent people?! What the hell is wrong with you all?!”

“Honey, it’s more complicated than that!” Roadrunner shouted back, an equally surprising yet less uncommon event. “We don’t have the firepower, let alone the man power! If we sneak into the city, you know what could happen? Not that they kill us, but that they reeducate us!”

Honey flinched.

“They could wipe our heads of everything we’ve learned, everything we’ve done, and everyone we’ve met! That’s the worst case scenario if we break into the city! We could lose someone in a worse way than dying, and we are not about to do that!” Roadrunner got up from her chair too, glaring at Honey. “I get it, you want to keep people safe, but so do we! And right now, and since we picked your tiny freckled ass out of the sand, our main purpose is keeping you safe!”

Honey shrunk down, hiding behind her jacket collar. She looked ashamed, like she was being yelled at by her parents.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Roadrunner sighed, stepping over to her to hug her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. But I’m serious, you know? All the stuff you’re saying- I get where you’re coming from, but it’s not safe.”

Honey didn’t say anything, just held onto Roadrunner, balling her fists in the back of her tank top.

They didn’t talk about BLI anymore after that, trying to return back to their sense of normalcy. They were all still kind of high from the Sisters’ desert weed and drunk from the Engine Oil. Plus, they weren’t at a fucking security meeting right now, they were at the after party of a concert. Poison and Ghoul decided to help distract everyone by telling the story of their engagement, earning “aw”s and “you’re so stupid”s from the Sisters. Eventually they had to go to sleep, the Killjoys thanking the Sisters for a millionth time for letting them host a concert at their clubhouse. 

Inside the bus, the band was already asleep. Tango was about to nod off on the couch when they came in. He trudged to bed with the rest of them, falling asleep as soon as he settled in. The Killjoys were a little wired, strangely. All of them were thinking about BLI and what they could possibly do to prepare for whatever they were planning. Slowly, each of them came to the solemn conclusion that they couldn’t do anything, and went to sleep.

* * *

Poison opened his eyes to find a place he hadn’t been in a while. The sky was pink and blue, like cotton candy swirling with the clouds. Ghoul, who was laying in the grass next to him, reached up and grabbed a fist-full of cotton candy sky, shoving it in his mouth.

Behind the cotton candy was the stars. Poison thought about ripping down the cotton candy sky to see the stars, but lost the will to do so somewhere between thinking it and lifting his hand to pull at his own cotton candy.

Ghoul rolled over to look at him, cotton candy now eaten.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling Poison onto his side to face him.

“I don’t know,” Poison sighed. His breath was made of stardust, and Ghoul breathed it so that galaxies might be created in his lungs. “I’m not in the mood for a long dream.”

“It doesn’t have to be long,” Ghoul said, picking a blade of grass. “It can be short if you want it to be.”

“There’s so much to think about,” Poison said, watching his thoughts float out his ears into the sky in little bubbles. “Look at all of them.”

“Wow, that is a lot,” Ghoul said, turning to watch them. “But it’s okay.”

“How?”

“There’s a lot of them, but they’re all little, see?” Ghoul reached up and popped one. “They aren’t hard to fix.”

“I guess you’re right.” Poison reached up to pop one but instead it stuck to his finger. “What’s this one?”

“Hm, it looks like dracs,” Ghoul observed.

“It must be BLI,” Poison sighed, pulling his hand closer to look into the bubble. “How can this one be so small?”

“Because they look scary but they don’t hold actual power.” Ghoul reached over and pressed down on the top of the bubble, straining it until it popped and oozed onto their hands. 

“Ew,” Poison grimaced, wiping his hand on his jeans.

“They’re gross and weak,” Ghoul said, staring at the ooze on his hand. “But they aren’t actually as powerful as they want to seem.”

“I believe you.” Poison looked back at the sky, watching the cotton candy float away, revealing the starry sky behind it.

Ghoul looked at the sky too, sad that the cotton candy was leaving. This dream didn’t feel the same as they used to… There was something different. “Do you want to do something?”

“I don’t know,” Poison groaned. “I wish I wasn’t dreaming, I wish it was just blackness.”

“No you don’t,” Ghoul said with a frown. He sat up and dragged Poison with him. “Let’s do something fun.”

“Like what?” Poison whined.

“Imagine the beach,” Ghoul said, pulling them both to stand up.

They felt the water lap at their feet before they could see the water. The sand poured in, burying their feet gently under their warmth. The rocks of the beach clustered together, forming soft peaks weathered by the water. The water of the ocean ebbed and flowed, crashing playfully against the rocks and soaking their jeans.

“I want to go there some time,” Ghoul said, looking out at the water in wonder. “I can’t imagine how beautiful it must be in person.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Poison said, smiling at the glittery sand. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Nothing like anything else in the zones.”

“You have to take us there some day,” Ghoul said reaching to dip his hands into the water. “It’s so pretty, I wonder if it’s cold.”

“It is,” Poison said, sitting down in the water and sand. The tide washed up gently around them. “It’s actually a lot colder than I expected it to be, but it would probably feel amazing in the daytime when it’s super hot.”

“You didn’t go in during the day?”

“Well, we did sort of, but it became night pretty fast and we ran all night. Plus I was kind of… Focused on other stuff.” Poison shook off the addictive feeling that the mixture of energy drinks gave him. He didn’t want to feel that again. “But we should go there some time, once things are normal again.”

Ghoul walked further into the water, but was stopped by an invisible wall. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know what’s out there,” Poison explained. “I can’t imagine what’s out there, so it doesn’t exist.”

“Aw, now we really have to go!” Ghoul groaned, pressing his hands against the wall. “I want to go out in it!”

“You’d probably die, do you even know how to swim?” Poison asked, laughing. 

“Well, no.” Ghoul pouted. “Fine, but we should learn how to swim then!”

Ghoul came to sit next to Poison in the water, watching the ocean stretch on forever in front of them. It had been so long since they shared a dream, maybe the weird feeling Ghoul was having was just because of that. Or maybe Poison wasn’t sleeping as restfully as he could be because of everything he was thinking about. 

“I’m going to make some stuff to help you feel better,” Ghoul declared. He pointed out at the ocean and large rocks sprung out of it. Then, flowers and grass grew over them, then trees and waterfalls. 

Poison was transfixed, watching in wonder as the rocks turned into mountains and touched the sky. It rippled like water, distorting the stars. Then it started to rain from the black watery sky, the stars forming the raindrops. They splashed into the ocean and drenched both of them. Poison was about to ask Ghoul a question but he forgot what it was when Ghoul kissed him. The rain still fell, running down their faces. Poison shut his eyes and just felt everything, wanting to soak up the sensations of everything.

* * *

Poison woke with a start, a loud thump startling him awake. He and Ghoul were still sharing the back bedroom. The room was still somewhat full of merch boxes and other things the band wanted to store, but there was enough room to walk from the door to the bed. Ghoul was slowly waking up too, curled in his arms.

“What was that?” Ghoul asked tiredly.

“Don’t know,” Poison grumbled, rolling to get up.

When he peeked out the door, eyes squinting from the studio’s lights, Mania and Punk both froze and looked at him apologetically. Mania was picking up his bass and Punk was replacing strings on one of the guitars.

“Sorry,” Mania said. “Dropped the damn thing.”

“What time is it?” Poison asked, rubbing his face.

“Just go back to sleep,” Punk said with a laugh. “You don’t have to be awake yet.”

“Cool.” Poison shut the door and turned back to the bed, climbing in and pulling Ghoul close again.

“What was it?” Ghoul asked, already sounding like he didn’t care.

“Bass fell over,” Poison mumbled into his hair. “Back to sleepy time.”

Ghoul just nodded, yawning and settling back in to sleep.

* * *

They started to get comfortable again, so much so that the Cannery show was almost an afterthought. The only thing they had to work out was making sure the bus was safe. There wasn’t a main road that led to the Cannery, so they had to stick to their flatbed idea, but the bus would be out of their field of view. Tango eventually volunteered to stay with it, promising nothing would go wrong. BlI hadn’t showed their faces in this long, he reasoned, he would be fine alone. And he was right.

The Killjoys played and this time almost everyone in the crowd knew the words to every song. There had been some old bottles of wine and whiskey in the haunted halls of the Cannery, and the crowd drank them up with the band and the Killjoys after the concert. Luckily they all didn’t drink themselves stupid, so the next day was much easier on them. The stage got put away in record time and they were back on the road soon after. 

On the bus, as they drove back, sharing snacks they’d found in the gas station on the way to the Cannery and playing a shitty board game that was in the back room of the Cannery, Poison thought about how odd this all felt. It felt so… Domestic, in a way. So normal. Like they were in another universe where they weren’t all living in a war-ridden desert fighting a massive evil corporation. Like they were just a traveling band, shooting the shit and playing shows together. He wouldn’t mind if that were the case. 

The Nest was the last venue of the tour. It felt like they were just getting started, but they knew the tour couldn’t go on forever. On the way, the Killjoys met for one last session in the studio. Nobody said anything until Poison put his notes down and sighed deeply. The other Killjoys looked up from their guitars. Mania and Punk turned to look at him too from where they were reviewing the drum notes on the couch. 

“You okay?” Ghoul asked Poison where he sat on one of the stools. He looked up from his notes, and Ghoul huffed sympathetically. His eyes were full of tears. Ghoul walked over and hugged him, a little awkwardly with the guitar still slung around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just-” Poison hiccuped, clinging to Ghoul’s shoulders. “I’m sad! I don’t want to stop doing this with everyone!”

“It’ll be okay, we’ll do another tour sometime,” Ghoul said into his hair. “I promise.” 

“Yeah, P, there’s always time to set up another tour,” Mania consoled. He saw Kobra’s glare but didn’t acknowledge him. “And once you talk to our guy in the city and make your album, you can even headline it!”

“And then we can open for you!” Punk exclaimed, smiling.

“It’s just- I love doing this with you guys,” Poison said, sniffling. He wiped his nose and pulled back from Ghoul. “I’m really going to miss it.”

“Last shows are always hard,” Mania said with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t ever want to stop, but everything comes to an end at some point. You just have to be totally in the moment, let yourself take everything in for what it is, you know? That’s how you make the real lasting memories.”

Poison smiled at him, then looked back as his notes and sighed again. “I guess you’re right. Nothing can keep going forever, as much as I’d like it to…”

“We can always tour again,” Jet said, nudging Poison’s foot with his and smiling. 

“Yeah,” Poison said.

“Well, probably,” Korba said quietly. “As long as nothing catastrophic happens, I suppose…”

Ghoul, Jet, and Punk glared at him for being pessimistic, but Mania chuckled.

“Always the pragmatist,” he said fondly. “You know, I think I get it now.”

“Do you?” Korba asked sharply. The room’s tone suddenly changed and everyone was on edge.

“Yeah I think so.” Mania smiled easily at him. “I get it.”

“What do you think you get?” Kobra asked, facing him and standing tall, menacing. 

“I get it,” Mania repeated. “I get why you left, I get why you act like that to me, I get why we could never work out. I get it.”

Kobra faltered slightly. “What?”

“I get it, finally!” Mania laughed, then turned back to his notes. “Nothing stays the same forever.”

Kobra looked dumbfounded for two seconds, then furious. “It took you this long to figure that out?!”

“Isn’t it like you always said?” Mania asked back, face hardening as he looked over his shoulder at him. “I had an unconventional upbringing. Took me a while to understand the concept of the fucking moon. You always had a habit of fixing, I see that now. I had a bad habit of pretending to be whatever people wanted me to be.”

“Mania,” Punk said, putting a hand on his arm.

“No, he gets to be right today.” Mania shook off Punk’s hand, turning back to face Kobra fully. Kobra was starting to look smaller, curling his shoulders back in toward his chest.

“You were right. Taste that. Pretty sweet, right? I grew up wanting to be useful, so I grew up being anything someone saw as useful. I did that to Her, I did that to the maids and nannies, and I did it to you. And you saw it as a challenge. You said you loved me so that I might be able to stop changing myself for people, but that’s not how that works.”

“Mania.” It was Poison this time who spoke up, his tone a warning.

“You never loved me,” Mania said, voice breaking slightly. “I-I get- I get that. Now. I get it. You didn’t just decide to stop, because that’s not how that works either. You just never did.”

Kobra was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Am I wrong?” Mania asked, knowing the answer already.

Kobra was fighting himself. He had loved Mania, just not how he needed to be loved. He didn’t need a boyfriend, he needed a mother or father who loved him unconditionally like a parent should. He never got that with the maids or nannies, and he couldn’t get it with Kobra. Kobra had fallen for the person Mania might have been under all that lying and changing himself, the person who could’ve ended up strong and sure of himself. But all that fixing he thought he had been doing had ended up making Mania worse. He never wanted to fix anything- anyone again.

“No.” Kobra’s mouth moved on its own finally. To his surprise, Mania sighed in relief.

“Good,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Then can we start over? As friends?”

Kobra stared at him some more. “I-I guess so.”

“Cool,” Mania said. He held out his hand to Kobra. “My name is Purple Mania.”

Kobra slowly took his hand and Mania shook it. “Kobra Kid.”

“Nice to meet you, cool name,” Mania said, smiling at him. Kobra’s heart twisted. “I’m in a band, we play crazy music.”

“I-I’m in a band too,” Kobra said, his mouth running on autopilot. “We play slower stuff sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play together sometime.” Mania let his hand go and turned back to his notes.

The other Killjoys watched Kobra for any signs of a panic attack or anxiety, but he looked at his bass and started practicing. Ghoul, Poison, and Jet all shared a glance, but decided that if he wasn’t saying anything, neither would they.

* * *

Despite the almost-argument in the studio, the rest of the day was spent with them savoring the last moments of touring. They got to the Nest faster than anticipated and set up the stage right away to get it over with. After that, they hung out inside for some downtime before the show. Tango especially needed a nap from all the driving. He also added on some tour stories from other tours he’s done with MGMK before he fell asleep. After he fell asleep, they played a few rounds of silent mario kart, during which Poison had to stop himself from shouting his victory three times. Ghoul and Kobra started poking each other to try and get the other to make a noise while Jet saved his very strong jabs for the moment when no one would expect to be poked. Punk was the one who woke Tango up in the end, accidentally dropping his empty soda can on the ground. Mania shook his head in disappointment, even as he collected the money from the silent bets everyone had made for who would wake him first.

Once people started showing up, everyone got ready properly. The Killjoys got on stage as the sun started to set, playing their best set ever for the screaming crowd of people who now knew every word. When the Killjoys ended their set, Poison had to take a moment before they left to look out at the crowd and say something.

“Before we go, I wanted to say something,” he said, clearing his throat. The crowd quieted and looked expectantly at him. “This is our last show, probably for a while, and I’m really sad that this tour is ending.”

The crowd gave a few “aw”s between the cheering. Punk hit the drums gently behind him, already emotional.

“This has been such a- well, formative experience for me and the other Killjoys. Our mission has always been to protect people. Whether that be from BLI or not.” Poison sighed shakily, trying not to cry. “I just- I’ll savor these shows for the rest of my life. I hope you will too.”

Everyone cheered, even Mania and Punk.

“And it’s way too early to be saying this right now, but,” Poison said, looking at Ghoul. Ghoul nodded to him, smiling. His sweaty hair was all over the place, his face and arms shining as the sun gave its last light. “The Killjoys are making an album of our own.”

The crowd cheered and surged toward the stage, fists and arms thrust toward them in excitement. Poison saw the Zone 2 outpost owner shouting with them, face lit up with excitement.

“I know, right?!” Poison laughed. “Not sure about the time line for that, but we’ll let you know as soon as we can! Now let’s let the professionals come play us their last and best show!”

As the Mad Gear and Missile Kid started their set, the Killjoys relaxed inside the Nest together. They would have been helping Tango with security but they were so wiped out from the emotional and physical tole their own show took on them that they needed to rest. 

The concert ended later than usual since it was the last. The band began to pack up their gear, the Killjoys making sure the crowd got to their cars safely. As they were making sure the outpost owner, who had just met with the band, got into his van, Poison saw something on the horizon that he hadn’t in a very long time. A white van with a big black smiley face on the side.

It took him way too long to jump into action, which he blamed on the fact that it had been probably multiple months since they’d seen BLI in the zones and that he’d just played his best concert earlier that night.

“Van!” Poison yelled, running to the bus. Tango, thankfully, was already pulling the cycles out of the back room and handing them to him. 

“What?” Ghoul said, taking a cycle despite his confusion.

“BLI van!” Poison shouted to the others, finally getting their attention. “Main highway!”

Jet and Kobra hesitated for only a moment before rushing over to grab their own cycles. Poison sped off with Ghoul toward the van. Poison could see through the windshield that it looked like just one scarecrow and a group of dracs. They seemed to start up their van as they got closer and drove off toward the city.

Both Poison and Ghoul skidded to a stop on the highway as the van got off on an exit that led right into the city. They shared a look before turning back and intercepting Jet and Kobra, signaling them to turn back. They gave confused looks but turned around anyway.

The four of them came back to the bus, the band and Tango all looking at them expectantly.

“Well? What happened?” Tango asked.

“They tried to lead us into the city,” Poison said, looking over his shoulder at the city in the distance. “It was only one scarecrow and probably five or six dracs.”

“They tried to lead you into the city?” Kobra repeated, as if he was hoping he’d heard him wrong.

“Yeah,” Ghoul said, looking at him from where he sat slumped over on his cycle. “It was pretty clearly a trap, which really worries me.”

“That’s really unsettling,” Jet commented. “Why would they be leading us into the city?”

“That’s the kind of curiosity that gets you bagged,” Poison said sharply, startling them. “We don’t know and we don’t care. We don’t go into the city, period.”

“No complaints,” Ghoul said, hopping off his cycle and walking it toward the bus.

Kobra and Jet shared a concerned look, but couldn’t think of a good reason to go into the city.

“What about the album?” Mania asked hesitantly.

“We’ll just have to go through you two,” Poison said, pulling his cycle toward the bus. “Let’s regroup at the radio tower.”

* * *

“You must return now,” Destroya said suddenly. They’d all been sitting in silence for so long, they had begun to go mad. The Phoenix Witch stood from where she had been meditating. Lucky Charm opened his eyes from his own meditation. The newly initiated protector, Shitty Teen, stood at attention in front of Destroya. They were all suddenly in front of Destroya, at the Nest. “Go, all of you. To the radio tower.”

Shitty Teen didn’t need an explanation, she just took off running. Lucky got up and took the Phoenix Witch’s arm. She nodded to him and he bent them across the zones. Dr. Death Defying watched them go and sighed, spinning himself around to face Destroya.

“You will die if you go,” she told him solemnly. “There is still a way this works out if you do not go.”

“But it’s a sure thing if I do,” he said, taking his sunglasses off his head to clean them. 

“This is true,” she said. She let out a metallic sigh. “You have always been prepared to die for these zones, these people.”

“Is that strange to you?” he asked, smiling at her. He put his sunglasses back on his head.

“No,” she said, “but I wonder why you care after all you’ve seen.”

“It’s because of all that I’ve seen and been through that I care so much,” he explained. “Maybe it doesn’t totally make sense to you, since you’re much more logical, but these people give me hope. Hearing all the stuff PW told us about how this shakes out, and what you’ve said about how it goes down… If there’s a way to make sure without a shadow of a doubt that I can ensure BLI gets taken down, I’m going to do whatever it takes.”

“Even if you will never be there to see it happen?”

“I’ll be there,” he said, giving a satisfied huff. “Because Killjoys never die.”

“You are a shining beacon of hope and inspiration in these bleak, black and white zones. It was a pleasure working with you.” Destroya sounded sad when she spoke.

“You always talk so uptight,” he chuckled.

“It’s force of habit,” she admitted, surprising him. “My original code is like bad parents. Makes you do things without realizing it, and then when you realize it you get frustrated. I’m going to miss you very dearly, Dr. Death Defying.”

“I’m gonna miss you too,” he said, sighing. He put a hand on Destroya’s half-buried face. “Once this is all over, your parents will stop bothering you, I promise.”

“If I could cry, Dr. Death,” she warned.

“I know, I know,” he laughed, patting her face and then turning himself toward the road. “Better get going then. Be seeing you.”

“Thank you,” she said before finally leaving.

Dr. Death rolled himself lazily out onto the street, watching the blinking red light of the radio tower. From the city, he saw a van drive onto the highway, heading toward the tower. He sighed, then stood from his wheelchair.

* * *

They had a tense and quiet ride to the radio tower. Mania and Punk slept, but the Killjoys couldn’t find it in them to. Poison sat on the couch, thinking while staring at the floor. Ghoul was sitting next to him, gripping his hand. Jet was standing by the door, picking at his lip. Kobra was pacing the room, muttering to himself about what the hell BLI could be trying to pull and why. The others let him, not wanting to have that discussion again.

The radio tower was close, so the trip wasn’t as long as they were used to by this point. When Tango pulled up he already had a bad feeling growing in his chest. 

“Guys?” he called over his shoulder, rousing the band from their sleep and alerting the Killjoys, who were still in the studio with the door propped open. “Show Pony’s waiting for us.”

“Something’s happening,” Ghoul said, voice haunted.

“It’s going to be okay,” Poison promised, squeezing his hand and then getting up.

They all got off the bus and met Show Pony in the parking lot. They were stood near the doors, looking intense. The band pulled the cycles off the bus just in case they needed them. Kobra ran over to the trans am as soon as he got off the bus, grabbing the keys as Show Pony threw them to him.

“What’s going on?” Jet asked, walking up and meeting their serious gaze.

“Not sure yet,” they answered, uneasy. “Got a message from Dr. Death Defying, though.”

“Really?” Ghoul said. “That’s great!”

“Would be,” Show Pony said, biting their lip nervously. “If he hadn’t told us to prepare for a fight.”

“What?” Poison said, putting a hand on his blaster holstered on his hip.

“Again, don’t know the details,” Show Pony said, angry this time. “I wish he would just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“What’s been going on since we left?” Kobra asked.

“Fucking nothing!” Show Pony shouted, kicking the curb behind them. “It’s been silence! Nothing from the scanners, nothing from the inner city, nothing!”

“… Inner city?” Jet said slowly. “We don’t have a long-range radio.”

Show Pony looked over their shoulder, surprised. “… He never told you about the-”

A loud clap of thunder startled and silenced them all. They looked up and saw clouds, big dark angry ones. They looked like they were moving from the north. It was confusing that they hadn’t noticed them before. As the Killjoys looked out at the storm overhead, looming over the city and moving toward them, they were distracted by the van they’d seen earlier driving toward the tower on the highway.

“Oh fuck,” Kobra muttered, pulling out his blaster.

“Get behind the bus,” Show Pony ordered. “Now.”

The band and Tango did so without question and looked confusedly at the Killjoys as they didn’t do the same.

“Why aren’t you-” Mania started, but it was Poison this time to snapped at him.

“They weren’t talking to us,” he said, not looking at them. “Only you guys.”

“We don’t need to hide-!” Punk said, standing up.

“Don’t see any blasters on you,” Show Pony said pointedly, glaring at them. “Stay in cover.”

They obeyed, but Tango stood and walked to stand in line with the Killjoys. 

“I’ve got a blaster,” he said, pulling it off his hip. 

The van pulled up to the radio tower, six blasters trained on the driver. A scarecrow they’d never met got out of the car, no mask on. He walked slowly, hands raised, until he was standing in front of the van. The dracs inside didn’t move.

“This is quite the welcome party,” the scarecrow said in a British accent. “Pardon the sudden visit, but it seems we failed to bait you earlier, so…”

“What the fuck do you want?” Poison asked, blaster pointing directly in his face.

“We have been ordered to gather all important BLI assets before the impending storm,” he answered, pointing up at the dark clouds rolling over the radio tower. They rumbled deeply, the sound reverberating in their chests. “Our meteorologists saw it approaching a week ago, from the north, over the mountains. We have no idea what kind of damage it could cause, therefore… We must protect our assets.”

“What assets?” Ghoul demanded, sneering at the man.

“Well, for one, the extremely capable Killjoys, whom my new boss finds just delightfully full of potential,” he said brightly, smiling at him, noticing his black hair. “And of course, the droids.”

He pointed to Show Pony and Poison, making Kobra, Jet, and Ghoul all flare with anger. The scarecrow then, before anyone could react, pressed a button on his watch. Ghoul thrust his blaster forward into the guy’s face.

“What was that?!” he shouted, pressing his blaster against the scarecrow’s head.

Before he could answer, Show Pony put a hand on his shoulder.

“Show Pon-” Ghoul was about to say, but then he was abruptly thrown backward into the hood of the trans am.

The Killjoys shouted in surprise, Poison rushing over to check if he was okay. Jet and Kobra didn’t know how to react, staring in confusion at Show Pony.

“Hm,” the scarecrow said thoughtfully, looking at Poison quizzically. “Interesting.”

The dracs all got out of the van then, raising their own blasters at the Killjoys.

“Stay on backup, boys,” the scarecrow ordered, fixing his coat. “Just wait.”

Meanwhile, Show Pony had spun around and grabbed Jet by his throat and tossed him across the parking lot. Kobra was still reeling, but he found it in him to throw at least one punch before Show Pony grabbed his arm and twisted. He shouted in pain, then kicked them in the chest. They barely budged, and tossed him aside like he was nothing. Mania sprung out and jumped on them, trying to slow them down. Punk used the opportunity to go for their legs, toppling them over and allowing Mania to pin them. Show Pony, now on their chest, pushed them all up off the ground and flipped Mania off their back, then kicking Punk across the lot where he hit his head on the curb. Tango was the first to actually shoot at them, nailing them in the shoulder. When their attention was moved to him, Poison kicked out his foot and tripped them.

Show Pony fell, scraping their chin on the ground and looking surprised for a moment before standing up and spinning to look at him.

“Fight me, asshole,” Poison growled. He knew he was the only one capable of actually fighting them hand-to-hand. No one else in this parking lot was any match for Show Pony.

“No,” the scarecrow said sternly. “Do not fight that one.”

Poison threw a punch as soon as Show Pony’s attention wasn’t on him. They looked at him, furious.

“I know you can’t resist a good fight,” Poison said, egging them on. “Fight me!”

The second the dracs moved, Tango started shooting. The other Killjoys were able to right themselves in time to fire at them too. They took cover behind the bus. The dracs weren’t shooting at Show Pony and Poison as they fought, only shooting at the Killjoys and Tango behind the bus. The scarecrow stood behind the van, shooting over it. 

Poison was being forced to keep on the defensive as Show Pony punched and kicked him relentlessly. He kept backing up, trying to find an opening, even if it was a cheap one. He ducked, Show Pony’s arm swinging over him, then went to punch for once but had his hand caught. Show Pony twisted his wrist and he screamed when something popped. Popped open, in fact. They had ripped open one of his wrist panels, glittering blood oozing from it from not being opened properly. Poison jabbed a quick punch to their side, trying to break a rib or something. Show Pony let out a huff, but didn’t indicate they had been hit other than that. They kept twisting his wrist and he started to crumble, screaming in pain and falling to his knees.

Just then, Punk threw a perfectly aimed rock, slamming Show Pony in the head. The moment of distraction was enough for Poison to sweep a leg under their legs, toppling them to the ground. Poison climbed on top of them, pinning them down by the arms and holding their face.

“Wake up!” he shouted, teeth gritted from the pain in his arm. “Fucking snap out of it!”

“Fucking useless-” the scarecrow said bitterly as the dracs started falling. “Contain them, Relic!”

Show Pony surged then, trying their hardest to pull their arms free. Poison tried his best, but they got an arm free and it was over. They flipped their position, throwing Poison to the ground, hitting his head hard against the pavement and grabbing his throat with both hands.

“G-et-” Poison choked out at Punk, who was somehow keeping himself unseen during the fighting around him. “G-e-t the- Re-spi-t!”

“What?!” Punk whispered, terrified. 

“M-y ro-om-” Poison croaked, clawing at Show Pony’s hands. “Cl-ose-t-!”

Punk ran before he could think, bursting into the radio tower and shouting in surprise when he ran into someone.

“Here,” Luck Charm said, handing him the Respite. “You don’t know me, but this is what you’re looking for.”

Punk looked at the strange machine. It had a strip of tape on top that read ‘Respite’ written in sharpie. “H-how-?”

“Just get back out there,” Lucky said, shoving him out the doors.

He stood there for just a moment before running over. Show Pony noticed him just as he put the electrode against their head.

“Wh-which button?!” Punk shouted, fumbling with the controls of the machine.

“G-” Poison was almost gone, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Gr-ee-”

Punk slammed his thumb against the green button just before Show Pony got their hands around his neck, letting Poison fall against the pavement, limp. Before they could choke him though, Show Pony jerked to a stop, their eyes glazing over. 

On the other side of the parking lot, the Killjoys were still shooting from the safety of the bus, but Ghoul had finally seen what was going on behind them and was shouting to see if they were okay.

The scarecrow made a frustrated noise as the last drac fell, firing a well-aimed shot and hitting Jet in the arm. “We don’t have to do this, you know! You don’t have to die out here! We can protect you in the city!”

“I’d rather drink gasoline!” Kobra shouted, firing a shot that whizzed by the scarecrow’s head. “I won’t miss next time, asshole!”

“You have no idea what you’re turning down!” The scarecrow sounded increasingly frustrated. “If you do not come with us, you will all die out here!”

“Time takes us all, be that in the city or out,” Tango spat, firing and shattering the windshield.

“Alright, stop shooting!” the scarecrow yelled.

“Why should we?!” Kobra shouted back, blaster trained on his head. “What did you do to our friend?!”

The scarecrow scoffed at the question. “The nanny droid? I returned them to their original code, as is what should have happened with the damn housekeeper, too!”

“Nanny?” Kobra muttered to Jet.

“Housekeeper?” Jet muttered back.

Behind them Ghoul had taken off to get to Poison’s side. Show Pony had collapsed at Punk’s feet, eyes still open.

“H-he’s not b-breathing!” Ghoul yelled, helplessly touching Poison’s face and trying to remember what to do. “H-help!”

Show Pony blinked, and Punk jumped. They looked around, like they’d just woken up from a nap.

“Wh-” they started to ask, but then saw Poison and everyone else around them. The standoff with the scarecrow, and the scarecrow’s watch. They hardened a furious glare at the scarecrow.

“Ah fuck,” the scarecrow grumbled. “Well, you’ve done the impossible. I was confused the first time, but I see now. You’ve found a way to-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kobra shouted, walking out from behind the bus, blaster still pointed at the scarecrow. “Turn the fuck around and tell your boss that we would rather die horribly in the zones than ever set foot in Battery City again.”

“You’re making a mistake,” the scarecrow said, shaking his head. He still had his gun pointed at Kobra too. “If you don’t come with us-”

“This isn’t a fucking debate,” Kobra spat. Behind him, Jet and Tango ran over to try and help with Poison, who still wasn’t breathing. “You hurt my family. I should kill you.”

“Then do it,” the scarecrow sighed. “Would save me the paperwork of my lost associates.”

Kobra’s grip on his blaster tightened, but he didn’t fire. He suddenly lowered his weapon, staring over the shoulder of the scarecrow. “Dr. D?”

The scarecrow turned to look as well, seeing Dr. Death Defying doing more than defying death. He was walking. The scarecrow stared in shock. “Wh-what?!”

“I’m afraid you’ve run out of firepower,” Dr. D said, raising his blaster from it’s holster and pointing it at his head. “And out of time.”

Thunder exploded over them, making everyone jump. Kobra was so startled that he dropped his blaster. The next minute felt like it was in slow motion. Kobra dropped his blaster and the scarecrow noticed, turning to take his shot. Dr. Death fired at the same time into the scarecrow’s back. Poison watched as he woke back up, gasping for air, as the light from the scarecrow’s blaster flashed in front of Kobra. He was going to die. But someone had run between them just in time, taking the shot and falling to their knees. And it looked like…

Korse coughed blood onto the scarecrow’s perfectly white shoes. Suddenly, the Phoenix Witch was standing by the bus. Somehow, Poison knew she had put Korse there, moved him across the zones to block the shot in time. And suddenly Shitty Teen was over Poison, pulling his head to face hers, mouthing that it was going to be okay. He couldn’t hear her. His ears were ringing.

And then there was Dr. Death Defying. He had been standing, but he had collapsed. Had he been shot? Yes, he realized, he had been. From behind. A new squad had arrived. Multiple scarecrows this time. He forced himself to look as he watched them fight in slow motion. Maybe his processors were fucked up or something. Kobra was able to grab his blaster and took down three scarecrows alone before taking a shot to the shoulder and retreating behind the bus. Jet shot from beside where Poison lay watching, able to take out two of them and wound three. Ghoul shielded Poison’s body with his own, firing somewhat blindly from rage. 

Shitty Teen pulled his face back to hers, pressing her fingers into his neck. His world went dark.

* * *

“Sacrifice myself?” Korse repeated. He was sitting in the void with the other protectors. Lucky Charm was meditating with the Phoenix Witch, Dr. Death Defying was speaking quietly with Shitty Teen, and Destroya was talking with him. 

“Yes,” Destroya said. She was talking only to him for now. “There will be a fight at the radio tower, and you must give your life to keep Kobra Kid alive.”

“I thought I was here to protect Party Poison?” Korse said, slightly confused.

“You are. If Kobra Kid dies, Party Poison will never be able to fully move on. He will die trying to destroy Better Living Industries, rather than survive to keep his family safe.” Destroya sighed. “I know it can be hard to understand, but everything must play out this way to get the best possible outcome.”

“How are you able to know all this?” Korse asked. He was sat, cross-legged, hands folded in his lap. He felt like he was talking to god. 

“Truthfully, I am not sure,” she said, chuckling. “I simply know that I must protect my children, and that humans are worth protecting as well.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to, as long as it keeps him alive,” Korse promised. “The zones will never accept me, there’s no chance to make a new life. It’s the only option, and the option I choose.”

“Your life will not be given in vain, Korse,” Destroya promised him back. “In giving yourself for this cause, you not only protect the lives of the Killjoys, but you also prevent the creation of a doomsday device more powerful than I was. She would have picked at your bones and made you something terrible, something that would have destroyed the Killjoys, including Party Poison.”

“We cannot let that happen,” he said. “I refuse to be used by them anymore. I’m ready.”

From behind him, Lucky Charm sighed and stood up. “Rough break. Got to be a protector for all of two days and you already have to die.”

Korse looked over his shoulder and saw Lucky had a sad smile on his face. 

“I’m glad you turned out- well, not evil,” Lucky said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I’m done trying to run away,” Korse said, standing up. “I’ve run from everything in the past. I refuse to run from this. I can finally do some good, so I must.”

“It’s a relief to hear you say that, scarecrow,” Dr. Death said, wheeling over to him. “As much shit as you put us through, I’m glad you turned out okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Korse said, turning to him. “I know it counts for less than nothing, but I am truly sorry.”

“It counts for something,” Dr. D promised. “It does.”

“The time nears,” Destroya warned. “The show starts soon. Do you all want to watch?”

“If you will let me,” Korse said timidly. “I want to see him one last time.”

“You may,” Destroya said. “But after that, you must be moved to the safe house. The Phoenix Witch will come for you after that when it is time.”

“I understand.”

* * *

He woke up right where he’d been when he went dark. In the parking lot. It was quiet now, save for the light rain that was falling on them all from the dark clouds above them. Ghoul was next to him, helping Shitty fix his wrist. Mania and Punk were sitting on the curb together, talking in hushed tones. Kobra and Jet were taking turns treating each other’s wounds, Jet pressing gauze into Kobra’s shoulder and Kobra wrapping bandages around Jet’s arm. They didn’t talk, and they looked sad. Then there was Show Pony. Bent over Dr. Death Defying’s body in the street, crying against his chest. They hit him, slamming their fist against him. They were covered in his blood. As he sat up, startling Shitty and Ghoul, he heard a familiar voice.

“No connection you make is meaningless,” Destroya said to him and only him. “Everyone you have met, you have formed a connection with. You may sometimes feel these connections strain and even sometimes break, but I promise you that if you hold on to them, you will never be alone. You will be the strongest person you could ever be, you need only keep the one thing that makes you so very unique.”

Poison didn’t say anything, mostly because his throat was sort of crushed, but raised an eyebrow.

“Your unrelenting, unforgiving, pedal to the metal sense of hope. Keep your hope deep in your heart, and you will never lose the light behind your eyes.” Destroya sighed. “The loss of your friend, and your previous tormentor, have set the stage for saving this bowl of dust.”

Poison made a confused noise, unable to actually ask a question.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Destroya’s voice trembled. “He is dead. He gave his life to ensure that you would be able to do what you must in the future. I know this must be the last thing you want to hear, but… You will one day face a great opposition. The whole city will attempt to overtake you. But because of his sacrifice, as well as the sacrifice of the scarecrow you used to know, you will be well-equipped to handle it when it comes.”

“Poison,” Ghoul said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Just wait one more minute, okay?”

He nodded, laying back down on the cold ground, letting Shitty get back to work on his wrist. He was confused, but Destroya hadn’t left him yet.

“Do not fear what you do not understand, and please calm yourself for now.” Destroya took a breath with him. “Soon you will be safe in the arms of your brothers and sisters.”

He struggled to swallow, trying to ask a question.

“You must enter the city.”

His eyes widened at her words, rain making him blink, tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my son. You- I-I am not good at- this.” Destroya made a frustrated noise. “You do not have time to mourn, you all must enter the city before the morning.”

He looked around and saw that she was talking to everyone now. Show Pony had turned around to stare at him, terrified. Jet and Kobra were staring at each other. Mania and Punk looked grimly toward the city. Shitty Teen sniffled over Poison, covering her mouth. Ghoul gripped Poison’s hand tightly.

Destroya left them without another explanation. Poison gasped and swallowed, trying to get his throat to un-crush itself somehow so he could say something. He got distracted, as everyone else did, as they saw something they’d never seen before float down from the sky. A little white flurry fell and stuck to the cold ground. The wind blew and everyone shivered.

Snow. Poison remembered Dr. D’s stories about it. How it used to fall on the mountains. Snow was falling in the zones. As he was pulled up from the ground, Poison realized something horrible. All the zoners were going to die.

**Author's Note:**

> I, too, dislike how I ended this. But sometimes you have to cut a story off whether it's done telling itself or not. The next fic will be called the Blizzard, and I bet you can guess what it'll be about. If you'll be patient with me, that fic will be written slowly as well, and hopefully not be as fucking long as this one because FUCKING HELL. I'll put updates as I write it in my bio on my profile, so check there every so often for an update.  
> Please leave comments if you managed to finish this thing! I'd love to hear your thoughts about it and how upset you are at the choices I made, when people react to the angst I write it feeds my soul.  
> And of course THANK YOU SO MUCH for taking the time to read this, you literally didn't have to but you did. Wow. You're amazing and I love you.


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